EDITED BY
JAN-WILLEM VAN PROOIJEN
AND PAUL A.M. VAN LANGE
« OWER
POLITICS
.mnuinm
Power, Politics, and Paranoia
Powerful societal leaders - such as politicians and chief executives -
are frequently met with substantial distrust by the public. But why are
people so suspicious of their leaders? One possibility is that “power
corrupts” and therefore people are right in their reservations. Indeed,
there are numerous examples of unethical leadership, even at the highest
level, as the Watergate and Enron scandals clearly illustrate. Another
possibility is that people are unjustifiably paranoid, as underscored by
some of the rather far-fetched conspiracy theories that are endorsed by
a surprisingly large number of citizens. Are societal power holders more
likely than the average citizen to display unethical behavior? How do
people generally think and feel about politicians? How do paranoia and
conspiracy beliefs about societal power holders originate? In this book,
prominent scholars address these intriguing questions and illuminate
the many facets of the relations between power, politics, and paranoia.
jan- willem van prooijen is an Associate Professor in the Depart¬
ment of Social and Organizational Psychology at the VU University
Amsterdam, and Senior Researcher, Netherlands Institute for the Study
of Crime and Law Enforcement (NSCR).
PAUL A. M. van lange is a Professor and the Department Chair
in the Department of Social and Organizational Psychology at the VU
University Amsterdam.
Power, Politics, and Paranoia
Why People Are Suspicious of Their Leaders
Edited, by
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
Cambridge
UNIVERSITY PRESS
Cambridge
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Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data
Power, politics, and paranoia : why people are suspicious of their leaders / edited by
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange.
pages cm
Includes index.
ISBN 978-1-107-03580-5 (hardback)
1 . Power (Social sciences) — Moral and ethical aspects. 2. Social psychology.
3. Trust - Social aspects. 4. Conspiracy theories - Social aspects. 5. Transparency
in government. 6. Business - Moral and ethical aspects. I. Prooijen, Jan-Willem
van, 1975- , author, editor of compilation. II. Lange, Paul A. M. van, author,
editor of compilation.
HM1256.P69 2014
303.3-dc23 2014003297
ISBN 978-1-107-03580-5 Hardback
Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of
URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication,
and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain,
accurate or appropriate.
Contents
List of figures page vii
List of tables ix
List of contributors x
Preface xiii
1 Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction 1
JAN-WILLEM VAN PROOIJEN AND PAUL A. M.
VAN LANGE
I Power
2 The effects of power on immorality 1 7
JORIS LAMMERS AND ILJA VAN BEEST
3 Do we give power to the right people? When and how
norm violators rise to the top 33
EFTYCHIA STAMKOU AND GERBEN A. VAN KLEEF
4 The leaders’ rosy halo: why do we give power holders
the benefit of the doubt? 53
PAMELA It. SMITH AND JENNIFER R. OVERBECK
5 “Power corrupts” revisited: the role of construal of
power as opportunity or responsibility 73
KAI SASSENBERG, NAOMI ELLEMERS, DAAN
SCHEEPERS, AND ANNIItA SCHOLL
II Politics
6 Never trust a politician? Collective distrust, relational
accountability, and voter response 9 1
SUSAN T. FISKE AND FEDERICA DURANTE
VI
Contents
7 Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular
empowerment 106
FOUAD BOU ZEINEDDINE AND FELICIA PRATTO
8 All power to our great leader: political leadership under
uncertainty 130
JOHN J. HALLER AND MICHAEL A. HOGG
9 Those who supported and voted for Berlusconi: a
social-psychological profile of the willing followers of a
controversial political leader 150
ANTONIO CHIRUMBOLO AND LUIGI LEONE
10 A growing confidence gap in politics? Data versus
discourse 176
RUDY B. ANDEWEG
III Paranoia
1 1 Misconnecting the dots: origins and dynamics of
out-group paranoia 199
RODERICK M. KRAMER AND JENNIFER SCHAFFER
1 2 Political paranoia and conspiracy theories 218
VIREN SWAMI AND ADRIAN FURNHAM
13 The social dimension of belief in conspiracy theories 237
JAN-WILLEM VAN PROOIJEN AND PAUL A. M.
VAN LANGE
14 Examining the monological nature of conspiracy
theories 254
ROBBIE M. SUTTON AND KAREN M. DOUGLAS
1 5 The role of paranoia in a dual-process motivational
model of conspiracy belief 273
MARC STEWARD WILSON AND CHELSEA ROSE
1 6 Searching for the root of all evil: an
existential-sociological perspective on political
enemyship and scapegoating 292
DANIEL SULLIVAN, MARK J. LANDAU, ZACHARY
IC. ROTHSCHILD, AND LUCAS A. KEEFER
Index
312
Figures
3.1 Effects of norm violation on perceptions of power,
expected emotional reactions, and approach/inhibition
tendencies. This figure is based on findings reported in
Van Kleef et al., 2011, Study 3. page 37
3.2 Power affordance as a function of norm violation
(stealing coffee vs. taking coffee upon invitation) and
prosociality (offering coffee to another person vs. keeping
coffee for self) . This figure is based on findings reported
in Van Kleef et al., 2012, Study 3. 41
4.1 Effect of supervisors’ power and transparency on
judgments of their moral character. 63
4.2 Effect of supervisors’ power and transparency on support
for them. 64
4.3 Effect of supervisors’ power, legitimacy, and transparency
on judgments of their moral character. 65
6.1 French-Swiss sample. Politicians appear in the dashed
ellipse, competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster centers.
6.2 German-Swiss sample. Politicians appear in the dashed
ellipse, competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster centers.
6.3 Italian sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse,
both incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. 96
6.4 Indian sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse,
both incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers.
6.5 Mexican sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse,
both incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers.
6.6 Portuguese sample. Politicians appear in the dashed
ellipse, slightly competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster
centers. 98
9.1 Political attitudes as a function of voting for Berlusconi
versus the left-wing parties. 156
9.2 Plot of the political attitudes as a function of RWA and
SDO. 157
vii
viii List of figures
9.3 Personality profiles of the voters according to the
HEXACO traits. 166
10.1 Satisfaction with the functioning of national democracy in
EU member states, 1974-2012. 181
10.2 Trust in the national parliament in EU member states,
1997-2012. 183
10.3 Trust in political parties in EU member states,
1997-2012. 186
10.4 Trust in politicians in sixteen European countries,
2002-10. 187
10.5 Variation in trust in parliament within and across
twenty-seven countries, 2010. 189
10.6 Satisfaction with the working of democracy and trust in
politicians in twenty-seven countries, 2010. 194
1 1 . 1 A model of out-group paranoia. 206
14.1 Four different conceptions of the relationships between
conspiracy theories. 265
15.1 ModGraph plot of the SDO by RWA interaction
predicting endorsement of organizational conspiracies. 284
15.2 Path analysis of a dual-process model, including paranoia,
predicting conspiracy belief (x 2 (7) = 13.36 ns, \ 2/df =
1.91, GFI = .96, RMSEA = .04, all paths significant at
least at p < .05). 285
Tables
9.1 Definitions and examples of sociopolitical attitudes
and beliefs page 155
9.2 RWA and SDO scores as a function of voting 156
9.3 Values and their underlying motivational goals according
to Schwartz (1992) 160
9.4 The HEXACO personality traits (Ashton et al., 2006; Lee
and Ashton, 2004) 164
9.5 Electoral performance of Berlusconi’s parties in the
national elections since 1994 168
10.1 Demographic correlates of political trust (mean trust on a
scale from 0 to 10) 190
15.1 Correlations between paranoia and conspiracy belief
across four student samples 281
15.2 Correlations between BIMP psychopathology subscale
scores, conspiracy belief, RWA, SDO, and Worldview
scale scores. 282
IX
Contributors
rudy B. andeweg, Leiden University, Leiden, The Netherlands
fouad bou z eined dine. University of Connecticut, Storrs, CT,
USA
antonio chirumbolo, Sapienza University of Rome, Rome, Italy
karen M. Douglas, University of Kent, Canterbury, UK
federica durante, Universita di Milano - Bicocca, Milano, Italy
naomi ellemers, Leiden University, Leiden, The Netherlands
susan T. fiske, Princeton University, Princeton, NJ, USA
Adrian furnham, University College London, London, UK
JOHN j. haller, Claremont Graduate University, Claremont, CA,
USA
Michael A. hogg, Claremont Graduate University, Claremont, C A,
USA
lucas A. keefer, University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS, USA
Roderick M. kramer, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA
joris lammers, Universitat zu Koln, Koln, Germany
mark j. landau, University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS, USA
luigi leone, Sapienza University of Rome, Rome, Italy
Jennifer R. overbeck, Melbourne Business School, Melbourne,
Australia, and University of Utah, Salt Lake City, UT, USA
Felicia pratto, University of Connecticut, Storrs, CT, USA
chelsea rose, Victoria University of Wellington, Wellington, New
Zealand
List of contributors
xi
zachary K. Rothschild, Carleton College, Northfield, MN, USA
kai sassenberg. Knowledge Media Research Centre, Tubingen,
Germany
Jennifer Schaffer, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA
daan scheepers, Leiden University, Leiden, The Netherlands
annika scholl, Knowledge Media Research Centre, Tubingen,
Germany
Pamela K. smith, University of California, San Diego, CA, USA
eftychia stamkou. University of Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The
Netherlands
daniel sullivan, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ, USA
robbie M. sutton, University of Kent, Canterbury, UK
viren swami, University of Westminster, London, UK
ilja van beest, Tilburg University, Tilburg, The Netherlands
gerben a. van kleef, University of Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The
Netherlands
PAUL A. M. van lang E , VU University Amsterdam, Amsterdam,
The Netherlands
jan-willem van prooijen, VU University Amsterdam,
Amsterdam, The Netherlands
marc steward Wilson, Victoria University of Wellington,
Wellington, New Zealand
Preface
Leadership is an indispensable element of a smoothly operating society.
We need political and corporate leaders to make important decisions
that have a strong and lasting impact on our job prospects, our health,
our safety, and our well-being. It therefore comes as no surprise that
societal leaders are closely monitored by the media, and are continu¬
ously being evaluated by citizens. What is striking, though, is that many
citizens seem uncomfortable with such societal power holders. This is
reflected in the negative and suspicious remarks that can be frequently
overheard in everyday discourse, assuming, for instance, that most politi¬
cians have a corrupt hidden agenda, or that most chief executive officers
(CEOs) are heartlessly driven by financial self-interest without much
regard for the collective interest or the well-being of their employees.
Moreover, conspiracy theories abound about illegal secret activities of
leaders, as, for instance, reflected in statistics revealing that large num¬
bers of people believe that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated
in a political conspiracy involving elements of the US government, or
that the 9/1 1 terrorist strikes were an “inside job.” All in all, many people
have little confidence in the societal leaders that they depend on.
It is important to find out how such distrust and suspiciousness emerge,
and whether it is rooted in actual immoral behavior by power holders, in
overly paranoid perceptions among citizens, or both. Does having power
influence how unethically a leader is inclined to behave? Is a person’s
moral compass predictive of the likelihood that he or she will rise to
power? If one can establish such a link between power and immoral¬
ity, it may have substantial implications for how society should select and
monitor its leaders. Are the negative perceptions of citizens towards lead¬
ers always justified? How often are citizens paranoid, perceiving immoral
behaviors and evil conspiracies when in fact there are none? The less trust
the public has in societal leaders, the more difficult it will be for those
leaders to function effectively. This may hamper the collective inter¬
est, particularly in times of crisis. The importance of these issues is
underscored by the enormous attention that researchers within the social
XIV
Preface
sciences have devoted to understanding the dynamics associated with the
influence of power on people’s behaviors and cognitions, as well as the
origins of distrustful and paranoid perceptions among citizens.
The “power, politics, and paranoia” project was largely inspired by
the observation that many people tend to be rather suspicious of societal
leaders. This observation energized numerous thoughts that are nicely
captured by the idea of power, politics, and paranoia. For example, some
would argue that “power corrupts,” that “power and politics often go
hand in hand,” and that “paranoia” - defined as suspicious beliefs about
the evil nature of others’ intentions and behaviors - may be a result of
such processes. There is also state-of-the-art research on each of these
topics. For example, some scholars investigate the extent to which power
is predictive of unethical or norm-violating behavior. Others look at how
citizens’ distrust, paranoia, and conspiracy beliefs emerge in situations
where such negative perceptions may be unwarranted. We wanted to cap¬
ture both sides of the coin as we were deeply interested in illuminating
these important issues. Indeed, we felt that these issues are important
from a scientific perspective, and that a fuller understanding of them
would involve a number of fields and disciplines closely related to psy¬
chology and political science. And, as alluded to earlier, we felt that the
issues of power, politics, and paranoia are at the heart of societal well¬
being. How can societies function well if people do not trust their leaders?
How can organizations pursue their goals if the leaders are mistrusted?
The next step was to write a grant proposal in which we proposed not
only research but also an international conference that would help us
further understand the delicate and fragile trust relation between societal
power holders and citizens. The conference was held in July 20 1 2 in Ams¬
terdam, and attracted a range of international speakers, who approached
this topic from various angles. Some time before the conference, we
decided to edit a book on these issues. We approached prominent schol¬
ars working in various countries (such as Germany, Italy, The Nether¬
lands, New Zealand, the USA, and the UK) to contribute a chapter,
and received many encouraging reactions. These reactions not only con¬
firmed our enthusiasm as such but also strengthened our conviction of the
scientific and societal relevance of power, politics, and paranoia across a
number of disciplines. We feel greatly indebted to these scholars, whose
efforts to summarize their thoughts and ideas about the relations between
power, politics, and paranoia in a chapter made the idea for this book a
reality.
Besides all the scholars who contributed a chapter, we feel we should
express our gratitude to various other people who have been of invalu¬
able assistance. First of all, we wish to thank Hetty Marx of Cambridge
University Press, who expressed enthusiasm for the book idea from the
Preface
xv
very start, and with whom we had a very pleasant collaboration through¬
out the project. We also thank Sarah Green, Joanna Breeze, Jonathan
Ratcliffe, Carrie Parkinson, and Rebecca Taylor of Cambridge Univer¬
sity Press for their help during various phases of the project. Furthermore,
we acknowledge the Dutch National Science Foundation (NWO), for the
financial support to start our investigation of political paranoia, which
eventually resulted in the conference and in this book (NWO Conflict
and Security grant W.07. 68. 103.00). Finally, we thank Nils Jostmann
and Joel Vuolevi for their contributions especially to the research that
followed from this grant.
Power, politics, and paranoia are omnipresent. A book that seeks to
understand and integrate these topics should be interesting to many
people who enjoy being informed about the dynamics of political and
corporate leadership. Beside the general interest, we think the book might
be especially informative to students and scientists with an empirical or
theoretical interest in the workings of power, politics, and paranoia in
these domains. We also believe that practitioners might benefit from
many of the chapters, as they deal with issues that are clearly relevant to
how leaders should optimally behave and communicate in politics and
organizations to develop strategies and attain important collective goals.
Indeed, newspapers tell us all too often that political and organizational
leadership is in need of considerable improvement and refinement. After
all, small changes in leadership can bring about big effects. Whether your
goal is empirical, theoretical, societal, or any combination, we hope that
you as a reader will appreciate the many insights that this book has to
offer, and that you will be as fascinated as we are about the intriguing
relations between power, politics, and paranoia.
1
Power, politics, and paranoia:
an introduction
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
Being a powerful leader is not an easy task in our modern age. Political
leaders have the major responsibility of making decisions in the collective
interest in the context of economic and financial crises, climate change,
poverty, immigration, the threat of terrorism, and war. Corporate lead¬
ers must navigate their organization’s interest through increasingly fluc¬
tuating markets, changing customer demands, and rapid technological
developments. The decision-making that takes place in these situations
typically has to be negotiated with multiple parties that have different
interests, often leading to heated debates and difficult compromises.
Many of the resulting decisions have complex moral and financial impli¬
cations, can potentially have unpredictable consequences, and must be
made under substantial time pressure. Moreover, the actions of societal
leaders are under continuous public scrutiny. Political leaders are closely
monitored by the media, while being praised and criticized by followers,
opponents, opinion makers, and other citizens. Corporate leaders are
accountable to stakeholders, policymakers, employees, and sometimes
also the general public. Yet, the consequences of these powerful leaders’
decisions are immense, as they directly impact the life of many citizens
in terms of jobs, income, well-being, and health.
Citizens thus depend substantially on the quality of their leaders’ deci¬
sions, which are made in a challenging and error-prone environment.
This raises the question of how citizens cope with the power that lead¬
ers within our society have over their lives, and to what extent they are
willing to accord them the trust and legitimacy that is needed for them
to function effectively as decision-makers (Tyler, 1997). One striking
notion is that citizens often respond with suspicion of the morality of the
actions and motives of their leaders. One indication for such suspicion is
the volatility, polarization, and extremism that can be observed through¬
out the European Union (EU) and the USA. Due to recent scandals
in the media pertaining to societal leaders (e.g., bonuses for managers;
bank crashes), there is a substantial public awareness of the possibility
of a failing political and economic system. As a consequence, people
1
2
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
frequently accuse leaders of secret, immoral - and sometimes even crim¬
inal - activities, as can be observed in the variety and widespread appeal
of the conspiracy beliefs that many people endorse when trying to make
sense of distressing societal events (e.g., Robins and Post, 1997; Sun-
stein and Vermeule, 2009). Moreover, according to the global Edelman
Trust Barometer 2013,1 government officials are considered to be the
least credible spokespeople throughout the world, and although there is
substantial variation both within and between countries, trust in politi¬
cians tends, on average, to be low in absolute terms (see also Andeweg,
this volume). Moreover, corporate leaders - such as CEOs - are also not
considered to be very trustworthy according to this global survey. Still,
such distrust clearly is not universal, as many leaders have a remarkable
capacity of motivating, inspiring, and mobilizing large groups of people
(Bass and Riggio, 2006).
Inspired by these observations, the present edited volume seeks to
address the following general question: Why, and under what conditions,
are people suspicious of their leaders? There is no simple or straightfor¬
ward answer to this question. At the same time, we believe that suspicious
beliefs about leaders can be better understood by appreciating the intense
research efforts of many prominent scholars throughout the social and
behavioral sciences. In various disciplines, academic researchers investi¬
gate hypotheses pertaining to relevant topics, such as the effects of power
on perception and behavior, how the powerless perceive the powerful,
unethical decision-making, trust and distrust, corruption, paranoia, and
scapegoating. We therefore asked various prominent scholars within the
social and behavioral sciences who have relevant research expertise - and
are hence able to provide a unique and insightful perspective on this
topic - to contribute a chapter representing their core ideas and findings.
In integrating the thoughts and ideas of these scholars into the present
book, our aim is to provide academics, students, and practitioners with
a comprehensive and current overview of theorizing on power, politics,
and paranoia, which may hopefully inspire further theoretical integra¬
tion, empirical research, and societal application. In the following, we
describe the purpose of this book in greater detail by illuminating the
origins of suspiciousness towards leaders.
The origins of suspiciousness towards leaders
To answer the general question of why people often are suspicious of
their leaders, it may be illustrative to first examine how distrust emerges
1 http://trust.edelman.com/
Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction
3
in a simple dyadic social structure. Suppose in any given social situation
that a random actor A (e.g., a citizen) is suspicious of how well intended
the actions and motives are of a random actor B (e.g., a leader). This
suspiciousness can have at least two possible origins. The first possibil¬
ity is that the origins of this suspiciousness can be found in the actions
of actor B. Actor B may behave in a way that is considered deceptive,
manipulative, selfish, or otherwise unreliable by most people. In other
words, actor A may be correctly suspicious, as actor B behaves in a way
that can and should not be trusted. The second possibility, however, is
that the origins of this suspiciousness may be found in the way actor A
perceives, feels, or processes information about actor B. Actor A may
interpret the ambiguous behavior of B more negatively than B intended
in so behaving, a phenomenon that is closely related to errors in attri-
butional processes such as the hostile attribution bias and the related
sinister attribution bias (Kramer, 1998). In other words, actor A may be
paranoid and misinterpret the good intentions of actor B.
If we extrapolate this simple dyadic structure to the current discussion,
the answer to the question of why people are suspicious of their leaders
can be summarized as two broad possibilities: (1) leaders on average are
less trustworthy than followers, and citizens are right to be suspicious;
versus (2) citizens exaggerate their distrust of their leaders, and thus a lot
of suspicious feelings are driven by paranoid cognitions among citizens.
It is important to recognize that these two possibilities are not mutually
exclusive. Powerful people may be less likely than powerless people to be
trustworthy, but, at the same time, the power holders that are trustwor¬
thy may not always be correctly perceived as such by their followers. To
fully understand people’s suspiciousness towards their leaders, it is nec¬
essary to closely investigate both possibilities, while challenging common
assumptions that laypeople and scientists sometimes have.
To examine these issues, the book is divided into three complementary
parts. Part I - “power” - explores the possibility that power holders
are less trustworthy than people who lack power. There are abundant
examples of corrupt - even “evil” - power holders in history. At the same
time, it must be recognized that such examples of corrupt power holders
do not empirically prove that power corrupts, or that corrupt individuals
are more likely to rise to power. As noted by Smith and Overbeck (this
volume), the actions of power holders are more noticeable - and hence
their negative actions are more salient - than if committed by someone
who lacks power. In other words, drawing the conclusion that power
corrupts based on everyday life examples of corrupt power holders alone
is not hard evidence, and may be subject to biased perceptual processes
(e.g., the illusory correlation). Moreover, there are also many power
4 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
holders in everyday life who are moral authorities, suggesting that if
there is a relation between power and unethical behavior, it certainly is
not a straightforward and simple one. What is needed, therefore, is a fine¬
grained analysis of empirical research that statistically tests whether or
not, and under what conditions, power holders are more likely to behave
unethically than people who lack power. Four chapters examine these
complex relations between power and ethical versus unethical decision¬
making.
Part II - “politics” - explores the dynamics of distrust and power
specifically in the political realm. The decisions made by political leaders
influence a large group of people, leading politicians to be a category of
power holder that has the potential of being viewed with a lot of suspi¬
cion in societal discourse. Political leaders thus constitute a prototypical
category of power holder that is frequently distrusted by followers, as
underscored by the Trust Barometer findings. We included a section in
the book that is specifically focused on examining the question of how
trust in and distrust of political leaders originate and are perpetuated. In
five chapters, scholars assess citizens’ suspicious perceptions of political
leaders from various angles. Specifically, the chapters address issues such
as what stereotypes people tend to hold about politicians, how distrust of
politicians emerges among disadvantaged groups in society, why citizens
sometimes are willing to grant enormous power to political leaders (e.g.,
authoritarian regimes), why people sometimes endorse leaders who dis¬
play clear signs of corruption (i.e., the Italian case of Berlusconi), and
whether or not the “confidence gap” (i.e., the extent to which citizens
distrust politicians) has widened in recent decades.
Part III - “paranoia” - investigates the psychological processes that
lead people to be overly suspicious of power holders. A large portion
of the population of Western countries believes in various conspiracy
theories, and these numbers are too large to be accounted for by clini¬
cal forms of paranoia (Robins and Post, 1997; Sunstein and Vermeule,
2009) . Indeed, it has been noted that paranoid cognition is a frequently
occurring aspect of interpersonal perception in everyday life (Kramer,
1998). Moreover, although some conspiracy theories have turned out to
be true (e.g., the Watergate scandal; the Iran-Contra affair), the major¬
ity of conspiracy theories have turned out to be false (Pipes, 1997).
In fact, people’s paranoid beliefs about societal leaders tend to suffer
from internal inconsistencies. Research indicates that beliefs in mutually
exclusive conspiracy theories - such as the belief that Princess Diana was
assassinated versus the belief that she staged her own death - are pos¬
itively correlated (Wood, Douglas, and Sutton, 2012). This illustrates
that it is impossible for all suspicious beliefs that people hold about their
Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction
5
leaders to be true; hence, a substantial portion of these beliefs can only
be misplaced paranoia. In six chapters, scholars examine the psycho¬
logical underpinnings of paranoid cognition, conspiracy beliefs, political
enemyship, and scapegoating. We now more elaborately introduce each
part in turn.
Part I - power
One of the editors of this book (van Prooijen) actively investigates belief in
conspiracy theories, and has commented on this topic various times in the
Dutch media. As a result, he sometimes receives email correspondence
from Dutch citizens who are strongly suspicious of power holders and
endorse a range of conspiracy theories. The messages vary substantially
in reasoning sophistication and politeness (as does the corresponding
likelihood of being replied to), but the overarching question is typically
the same: “Did you ever consider the possibility that we are right to
be suspicious, and that most leaders actually cannot be trusted?” The
question is usually posed rhetorically, as if scientists never thought of that
possibility. Admittedly, both editors are highly skeptical of most of the
rather grandiose conspiracy theories that can be found on the internet.
But at the same time, the underlying question whether or not there is a
link between power and unethical behavior is a fair one, and one that can
be tested empirically.
Power is typically conceptualized and defined as control over other
people’s outcomes (Fiske, 1993). Almost by definition, this implies that
power holders have opportunities to exploit such outcome control for
their own benefit. In other words, power creates the potential for power
abuse, and corruption is common in all societies, including modern West¬
ern democracies (Graycar and Smith, 2011). Indeed, since the seminal
publication ofKipnis (1972) on the question of whether or not power cor¬
rupts, decades of research have explored the influence of power on - for
instance - perspective taking (Galinsky, Magee, Inesi et al. , 2006), stereo¬
typing (Fiske, 1993), ethical decision-making (Blader and Chen, 2012),
hypocrisy (Lammers, Stapel, and Galinsky, 2010), disinhibition (Hirsch,
Galinsky, and Zong, 2011), and overconfidence (Fast, Sivanathan, Mayer
et al., 2012).
It is not hard to find examples of leaders who turned out not to be
worthy of the public’s trust, in both the political and corporate world.
Richard Nixon’s personal involvement in the Watergate affair under¬
scores that even at the highest political office people are not immune to
the temptation of unethical decision-making and corruption. The Enron
CEOs, blinded by greed, committed extensive fraud by exaggerating the
6 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
company’s profits and embezzling millions of dollars, eventually lead¬
ing to the Enron bankruptcy. Bernard Madoff, chairman of one of the
leading market-maker businesses on Wall Street, robbed thousands of
people of their life savings with his fraudulent Ponzi scheme before being
exposed as a conman. These are misdeeds of a highly immoral nature,
even after we recognize that they are only minor infractions compared
to the actions of powerful leaders who committed large-scale atrocities
(Hitler, Stalin).
But one cannot draw solid conclusions about the relation between
power and unethical behavior based only on examples and anecdotes of
immoral leaders. Many other leaders in history have been characterized
by a high sense of morality and an admirable concern for the well-being
and life circumstances of others. Mahatma Gandhi was the major leader
of the Indian struggle for independence, which he managed to achieve
through peaceful and violence-free resistance to the oppression of his
people. Nelson Mandela spent much of his adult life in prison due to his
opposition to the perverse system of apartheid, but he had the incredible
capacity to forgive the very people who had incarcerated him once he was
elected president of South Africa. Finally, the highly successful corporate
leader Bill Gates has donated more money to charity in recent years than
most EU countries did. Thus both moral and immoral societal leaders
abound. What does the empirical evidence tell us about the relation
between power and unethical behavior?
The contribution by Lammers and van Beest (Chapter 2) addresses
the effects of power on selfish and corrupt behavior. The chapter reveals
that, at least under certain conditions, power leads people to feel entitled
to take more than their fair share from a pool of scarce resources, and
to compromise less in negotiations. Moreover, the authors suggest that
power can corrupt for various reasons, such as its disinhibiting effects.
These insights are complemented by correlational findings among soci¬
etal power holders (e.g., CEOs), revealing that power is associated with
increased disinhibition, overrewarding of the self, and an increased like¬
lihood of infidelity in close relationships.
These insights are further expanded upon in the contribution by
Stamkou and Van Kleef (Chapter 3). They note that not only does power
increase the prevalence of norm violations but also that actors who display
certain forms of norm-violating behavior lead others to ascribe power to
them - and this may fuel power affordances. Interestingly, such power
affordances are fueled only by prosocial norm violations - that is, norm
violations intended to benefit others - not by selfish norm violations. The
authors discuss the implications of these findings in terms of how the rela¬
tion between norm violations and power affordances may be influenced
Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction
7
by culture, as well as how norm violations may reinforce a hierarchical
social structure through power affordances.
Chapter 4 by Smith and Overbeck challenges the notion that power
necessarily corrupts, and these authors highlight the positive effects of
power. They describe that although power may corrupt sometimes, the
evidence for these negative effects of power is much more mixed than
is commonly assumed, and power frequently has positive effects such
as increased individuation, communal relations, and prosocial behavior.
Moreover, Smith and Overbeck provide evidence that - at least some¬
times, and possibly much more frequently than is recognized by scientists
and laypeople - people perceive power holders as more moral and less cor¬
rupt than others. They then discuss the implications of these findings for
putting the right people into powerful positions.
Finally, Chapter 5 by Sassenberg, Ellemers, Scheepers, and Scholl
notes that power can be construed in two ways: (1) as opportunity to
reach one’s own goals, and (2) as responsibility for others. They review
evidence that power corrupts only if people construe it as opportu¬
nity, but not if they construe it as responsibility. However, Sassenberg
and colleagues also reveal that the construal of power as opportunity is
more attractive - and hence more likely to instigate strivings for power -
than the construal of power as responsibility in Western cultures. These
authors then discuss how culture and context determine how people
construe power, and what the implications of these dynamics are for
corruption.
Part II - politics
Part II on “politics” addresses suspicious perceptions in the context of
a specific type of leader - namely, politicians. This is in all likelihood the
category of leadership that is most visible and debated in our society.
Not only are politicians closely monitored by popular media, but also the
decisions made by politicians have an impact on the employment, finan¬
cial status, health, and general well-being of many people. Moreover,
sometimes politicians have to make decisions that they believe to be nec¬
essary for the long-term collective interest, but that are clearly painful and
negative to the specific short-term interests of various groups of people.
The benefits of such decisions are typically disputed by opposing parties.
Politicians thus are frequently associated with unpopular and debated
decisions, and, as a consequence, it is likely that politicians often are
target of substantial distrust, paranoid reactions, and conspiracy beliefs.
Ironically, political leaders are presumably also the category of lead¬
ers who are most in need of trust by their followers. How long political
8
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
leaders manage to stay in office depends strongly on the trust that they are
accorded by citizens. Although all leaders benefit from the trust of their
followers (Tyler, 1997), this does not match up to the case of politicians
whose re-election depends in a directly linear fashion on how trustworthy
they are perceived to be. This suggests an interesting paradox: Citizens
on average have little trust in politicians, but the same citizens have the
capacity to elect those same politicians to office in modern represen¬
tative democracies. It is, of course, likely that those who did not vote
for a certain elected political leader are highly suspicious of that leader.
It has been noted that the political left is notoriously suspicious of the
political right, and vice versa (Inglehart, 1987). But an additional pos¬
sibility is that trust in specific politicians and political parties is fragile.
These considerations suggest interesting dynamics pertaining to suspi¬
cious perceptions of political leaders, which deserve an in-depth analysis.
The five chapters in the “politics” part of this volume provide such an
analysis.
In the first chapter of the “politics” part, Fiske and Durante (Chapter
6) analyze the contents of the stereotypes that people endorse about
politicians. In a variety of countries, people evaluated how the category
of politicians maps on the stereotype dimensions of warmth and com¬
petence. The competence that people ascribe to politicians varies by
country, but in all countries investigated, people placed politicians at
the “cold” part of the warmth dimension - insincere, dishonest, “not-
us.” These evaluations can be accounted for by the various negative
emotions that politicians elicit, as well as by the interdependence struc¬
ture that characterizes a politician-voter relationship. Fiske and Durante
conclude by discussing how relational accountability may regulate trust
among voters.
In Chapter 7, Bou Zeineddine and Pratto note that distrust among
the disadvantaged is inherent to asymmetrical power structures due to
a heightened sense of vulnerability and uncertainty whether one’s needs
will be met. Applying this insight to the context of political distrust, these
authors note that disadvantaged groups in modern societies increasingly
experience a sense of empowerment to strive for better guarantees regard¬
ing the extent to which their basic needs are met. As such, an increased
empowerment of the disadvantaged, in combination with a failure of
authorities to address their needs, may increase political distrust. In
concluding, they discuss the potential positive and negative effects that
this distrust may have on emancipatory values, democracy, and social
progress.
Chapter 8 by Haller and Hogg addresses the question of why citi¬
zens sometimes are willing to accord extreme levels of power to political
Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction
9
leaders. They note that, particularly in times of crisis and uncertainty,
people desire strong and directive leadership. Building on social identity
theory, uncertainty-identity theory, and the social identity theory of lead¬
ership, they note that uncertainty increases identification with groups and
the desire for a prototypical leader. Extreme uncertainty, however, may
lead people to particularly identify with groups that are highly entitative,
with simple prototypes and a rigid hierarchy. As a consequence, extremely
uncertain societal circumstances may motivate people to endorse leaders
that are extreme, ideologically rigid, and authoritarian. These insights
contribute to the important question of how many authoritarian regimes
of the twentieth century could rise to power.
Chapter 9 by Chirumbolo and Leone then addresses a counterintuitive
but real phenomenon: Why do many people sometimes vote for political
leaders that are quite explicitly associated with immoral conduct and
corruption? They specifically focus on the Italian case of Berlusconi, who
throughout the years has received substantial support from voters, and
has been elected prime minister multiple times, despite official corruption
charges, court trials, and other (e.g., sex) scandals. Chirumbolo and
Leone then analyze the sociopolitical attitudes, values, and personality,
of citizens who voted for Berlusconi, and develop a profile of people who
continually support this controversial leader.
Finally, in Chapter 1 0 by Andeweg, the author notes that there seems
to be a confidence gap in the EU - referring to the distrust that citizens
display in political parties and politicians - but challenges the frequently
held assumption that the confidence gap between citizens and politicians
has widened in recent decades. This author analyzes longitudinal data
about political trust in many EU countries to determine whether there is
any evidence for a widening confidence gap. The data reveal that although
trust in political parties and politicians tends to be low in absolute terms,
there is no evidence for a widening confidence gap. Changes in trust over
time seem to be fluctuations rather than trends, and vary substantially
between and (particularly) within countries. Andeweg concludes that
despite the tenacity of such a belief, the widening of the confidence gap
may be as real as the Loch Ness Monster.
Part III - paranoia
The final part of the book - on “paranoia” - seeks to explain the fact
that many citizens hold suspicious beliefs about leaders that arguably are
far-fetched, or at least inconsistent with other suspicious beliefs that are
endorsed by the same perceivers (Wood et al., 2012). On many inter¬
net sites one can find conspiracy theories about (for instance) NASA
10 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
faking the Moon landings, the Bush government orchestrating the attacks
on 9/11, or climate change being a hoax imposed on citizens to attain
some evil goal. Despite the superhuman level of power, organizational
skill, and malevolent intent that these theories sometimes assume, a sub¬
stantial proportion of the human population believes in, or at least takes
seriously, many such theories (Robins and Post, 1997; Sunstein and Ver-
meule, 2009; see also Swami and Furnham, this volume; van Prooijen
and van Lange, this volume) . The prevalence of such suspicious beliefs
suggests that political paranoia serves some psychological function for
perceivers. Indeed, various authors have noted that paranoid social cog¬
nition, as well as belief in conspiracy theories, serves the mental function
of regulating uncertainty by making sense of distressing societal events
(e.g., Hofstadter, 1966; Kramer, 1998; Whitson and Galinsky, 2008).
In a related fashion, it has been noted that people attribute increased
power to their enemies to regulate uncertainty; after all, one can under¬
stand, and anticipate, the actions of a recognizable immoral agent (Sul¬
livan, Landau, and Rothschild, 2010). These arguments illustrate that
paranoid social cognition, conspiracy beliefs, perceived enemyship, and
scapegoating may be grounded in the normal underlying psychological
processes of seeking control and trying to make sense of the world.
Although paranoid beliefs may be psychologically functional for per¬
ceivers, one may wonder how functional such beliefs are for others in the
social environment and society at large. It is conceivable that being skepti¬
cal and vigilant about the actions of powerful people or groups is adaptive
as it might make citizens less vulnerable to exploitation while increasing
power holders’ sense of accountability for their actions. Moreover, a cer¬
tain amount of distrust may provide impetus to social change and the
development of emancipatory values (Bou Zeineddine and Pratto, this
volume) . But exaggerated distrust and suspicion are likely to be a reason
for concern, for various reasons. First, deteriorated relations between
leaders and followers undermine the legitimacy that leaders need for
good governance (Tyler, 1997). Indeed, empirical research reveals that
conspiracy beliefs decrease people’s intention to engage in politics (Jol¬
ley and Douglas, in press). Moreover, conspiracy beliefs can lead people
to make bad choices that influence important life outcomes, such as
their health (e.g., Swami and Furnham, this volume; Thornburn and
Bogart, 2005). Finally, there is the serious danger of the interpersonal
and intergroup conflict, hate crime, and violence that may emerge from
these paranoid beliefs. Taking this latter issue to the extreme, historical
records suggest that many of the major atrocities in the twentieth cen¬
tury were substantially fueled by paranoid beliefs about other groups.
For instance, one of the core beliefs underlying the Holocaust was that
Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction
11
Jewish people were conspiring to achieve world domination, as through
communism (Midlarsky, 2011; Pipes, 1999). Likewise, many people in
communist regimes were killed because of their alleged connection to the
West, which made them potential enemies of the state or spies. Although
one might note that these tragedies were rather extreme, and presumably
grounded in extreme paranoia, they nevertheless underscore the dramatic
consequences that suspicious beliefs about other peoples or groups can
potentially have.
In the first chapter (11) of the “paranoia” part, Kramer and Schaf¬
fer address the origins of out-group paranoia, which they conceptualize
as extreme suspicion and distrust between groups in the context of the
hierarchical trust dilemma. Such dilemmas are characterized by asymme¬
tries in the level of power and dependence between groups. Kramer and
Schaffer then present a model of how, in these dilemmas, perceptions of
vulnerability and threat elicit psychological processes that ultimately lead
to out-group paranoia. Through hypervigilance and dysphoric rumina¬
tion, three specific forms of intergroup misperception may emerge that
contribute to such out-group paranoia - namely, the overly personalistic
construal of intergroup interactions, the sinister attribution bias, and the
exaggerated perception of conspiracy.
In Chapter 1 2, Swami and Furnham examine the roots of conspiracy
theories. They first conceptualize and define what a conspiracy theory is,
after which they review sociological and psychological research that has
examined this phenomenon. Specifically, they argue that, much like other
belief systems, conspiracy theories fill a need for certainty, control, and
understanding, offering a coherent account of events that are otherwise
difficult to understand. Furthermore, Swami and Furnham review the
psychological processes that contribute to conspiracy beliefs, such as the
fundamental attribution error, attitude or group polarization, and various
personality and individual differences. They conclude their chapter by
discussing the implications of conspiracy beliefs for societal and political
functioning.
Chapter 13 by van Prooijen and van Lange seeks to illuminate the
social dimension of belief in conspiracy theories. They argue that most
conspiracy beliefs are an intergroup phenomenon that follows from the
perception that an out-group is threatening one’s in-group. This distin¬
guishes conspiracy beliefs in important ways from interpersonal para¬
noia, which is characterized by a belief that others are trying to harm
a perceiver personally. Van Prooijen and van Lange then present evi¬
dence for the proposition that conspiracy beliefs are fueled by feelings
of rejection by a powerful out-group, as well as a strong feeling of being
connected to one’s in-group. Their conclusion is that conspiracy beliefs
12 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
can be meaningfully conceptualized as the result of perceived intergroup
threat.
In Chapter 14, Sutton and Douglas examine the monological nature of
conspiracy beliefs. Specifically, they pose the question of why people who
believe in one conspiracy theory are more likely to also believe another
conspiracy theory. The dominant explanation for this phenomenon is
that conspiracy beliefs are part of a monological belief system, character¬
ized by closed-mindedness and a nomothethic explanatory style. Sutton
and Douglas review a range of situational and personality variables that
predict conspiracy beliefs, and consider the implications of the available
evidence for the idea that conspiracy beliefs are part of a monological
mind-set. They conclude that at present there is insufficient evidence to
prove that conspiracy beliefs are indeed monological in nature, and that
there are alternative mechanisms that may explain the strong correlations
between different conspiracy beliefs.
Chapter 15 by Wilson and Rose focuses on political and cultural expla¬
nations to explain belief in conspiracy theories. Using a dual-process
motivational framework, they explain how paranoia, on the one hand,
and the sociopolitical variables of right-wing authoritarianism (RWA)
and social dominance orientation (SDO), on the other hand, can predict
belief in conspiracy theories. They note that people who score high on
RWA more easily see social events as a threat to security, while people who
score high on SDO more easily see social events as a threat to hierarchy,
either of which factors may independently stimulate conspiracy beliefs.
In addition, Wilson and colleagues present recent research findings on
the relation between paranoia, RWA, SDO, and conspiracy beliefs.
In the final chapter (16), Sullivan, Landau, Rothschild, and Keefer
examine the existential roots of political enemyship, and the related
construct of scapegoating. They theorize that the perception of hav¬
ing personal and political enemies allows individuals to maintain a sense
of personal control and a valued identity. Using insights derived from
terror-management theory, Sullivan and colleagues note that enemyship
serves four existential functions: death denial, identity maintenance, con¬
trol maintenance, and guilt denial. They review the evidence for these
four existential functions of enemyship, and supplement their existential
theory of enemyship with sociological insights that specify how social
constructions of enemies imbue them with certain characteristics. More¬
over, they delineate under which social circumstances enemyship and
scapegoating are generally likely to occur, and how social circumstances
can predict qualitative variation in the specific enemyship and scapegoat¬
ing phenomena that may arise.
Power, politics, and paranoia: an introduction
13
Closing remarks
To return to the broader issue of why people sometimes are suspicious
of their leaders, many people in everyday life occasionally encounter
a corrupt leader, and many people occasionally may be paranoid. The
question, however, is not whether corrupt leadership or political paranoia
occurs, but, rather, whether there exist behavioral and cognitive regular¬
ities in these phenomena that can be scientifically predicted, explained,
and modified. The present book addresses this issue in the context of cur¬
rent research on topics related to power, politics, and paranoia. It is our
hope that the chapters in the present volume may inspire researchers and
practitioners in their efforts to establish or maintain morally responsible
and effective governance which is accountable to a public that is charac¬
terized by a constructively critical mind-set without displaying excessive
paranoia.
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Blader, S. L., and Chen, Y.-R. (2012). Differentiating the effects of status and
power: a justice perspective. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 102,
994-1014.
Fast, N. J., Sivanathan, N., Mayer, N. D., and Galinsky, A. D. (2012). Power and
overconfident decision-making. Organizational Behavior and Human Decision
Processes, 117, 249-60.
Fiske, S. T. (1993). Controlling other people: the impact of power on stereotyp¬
ing. American Psychologist, 48, 621-8.
Galinsky, A. D., Magee, J. C., Inesi, M. E., and Gruenfeld, D. H. (2006). Power
and perspectives not taken. Psychological Science, 17, 1068-74.
Graycar, A., and Smith, R. G. (2011). Handbook of global research and practice in
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Hirsch, J. B., Galinsky, A. D., and Zhong, C.-B. (2011). Drunk, powerful, and
in the dark: how general processes of disinhibition produce both prosocial
and antisocial behavior. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 6, 415-27.
Hofstadter, R. (1966). The paranoid style in American politics. In R. Hof-
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Inglehart, R. (1987). Extremist political position and perceptions of conspiracy:
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Jolley, D., and Douglas, K. M. (in press). The social consequences of conspir-
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Robins, R. S., and Post, J. M. (1997). Political paranoia: the psychopolitics of hatred.
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Part I
Power
2 The effects of power on immorality
Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest
In almost all modern democracies, many citizens feel alienated from pol¬
itics. They lack confidence in politicians and experience a “gap” between
their own reality as citizens and the reality that politicians move in. They
distrust politicians and lack confidence in their ability to deal with what
they see as the most important issues of today (e.g., Bynner and Ashford,
1994; Crozier, Huntington, and Watanuki, 1975; Kabashima, Marshall,
Uekami et al. , 2000; Lipset and Schneider, 1983; Norris, 1999; Nye,
Zelikow, and King, 1997; Pharr and Putnam, 2000; Pharr, Putnam,
and Dalton, 2000; for a meta-analysis, see Dalton, 1999). To be clear,
this lack of trust and confidence does not mean that people favor the
introduction of fascism, communism, or any other nondemocratic form
of government (Kaase and Newton, 1995; Norris, 1999). It is also not
specifically directed towards those politicians who happen to rule at this
moment; turning current politicians out and electing new ones does not
restore this lack of confidence (Andeweg, 1996). Rather, what seems
to underlie this lack of trust and confidence is a general gloom and pes¬
simism about politicians. It is felt that the attention of politicians is aimed
at people’s votes and not their interests or opinions. As soon as politicians
are elected, they forget about their voters.
There may be many explanations for this lack of confidence. For exam¬
ple, one explanation may be that the mass media has become more and
more sensational and focused on private scandals. Another explanation
may be that society’s increasing complexity makes it relatively hard to dis¬
cern any positive impact of current government, leading to a perception
that politicians lack either the willingness or the ability to bring about
any real changes. But the present book focuses on a different, perhaps
more fundamental, explanation, and aims to investigate whether people
lack confidence in their leaders simply because they are fundamentally
suspicious about people with power - such as politicians. Such suspicion
of powerful people is not new - in fact, it is recurrent across the centuries.
In the Athenian democracy of the fourth century BC, Plato (1998) had
already observed that whatever politicians gained in power they lost in
17
18
Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest
morality. Plato believed that power almost necessarily leads to corrup¬
tion, selfishness, and dishonesty. In fact, according to him, this link from
power to corruption was so strong that it could only be broken by special
training. Since then, Plato’s dim view of power has often been echoed -
interestingly, even by people who have had first-hand experience of hav¬
ing power, such as Marcus Aurelius (writing in AD 167) (1989), Leo
Tolstoy (1935/1894), or Lord Acton (1972/1887), who coined the adage,
“Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
By virtue of use and repetition, Lord Acton’s words and - more gen¬
erally - the idea that power undermines the fundamentals of morality
have almost reached the status of a universal truth, the veracity so much
beyond doubt that questioning it would only demonstrate one’s naivety.
After all, hardly a day goes by without some scandal or misbehavior
among the more powerful of our society. Think of Silvio Berlusconi’s
bunga bunga sex parties with underage girls, Bernard Madoff’s Ponzi
scheme, or Richard Nixon’s bugging of the Democratic Party headquar¬
ters at the Watergate Hotel. In fact, such scandals follow each other so
quickly that some wonder how politicians find the time to govern. Time
and again, we hear of powerful people with an important function who
violate the most basic norms, principles, and values of our society and
who seem to feel entitled to place themselves beyond the rules that govern
mere mortals.
But anecdotes and observations alone - even if made by Plato or Tol¬
stoy - do not prove that power indeed corrupts. It may very well be that
we often hear about sex scandals among politicians and other powerful
people simply because the powerful are followed more closely by the
media. If John Doe holds a sex party it is not news; if Berlusconi does,
it is. It may also be that power is by itself not a corrupting force - to
follow Lord Acton - but that it merely attracts the corruptible. Perhaps
those who are interested in immorality are more likely to be attracted
to a powerful position. The aim of the present chapter is therefore to
give an overview of empirical research on the link between power and
corruption, to test the truth of Lord Acton’s adage.
The research that we discuss studies the effects of power not by looking
at the behavior of politicians and powerful people, but by looking at ordi¬
nary people. This research assumes that if power has general corruptive
effects, then even “ordinary” people, such as students or average citizens,
should show essentially the same corrupt behaviors whenever they have
power - although perhaps in a more diluted form.
In discussing this research on power, we make one fundamental
distinction - namely, that between positions of power and feelings of
power. Positions of power occur when people have more control over an
The effects of power on immorality
19
outcome. For example, they have more control over negotiations. But
positions of power also bring feelings of power. People who are regularly
in a powerful role may start to see themselves differently. They start to
have persistent feelings of power. Such feelings also affect behavior. As
we will argue, a key difference is that positions of power bring considera¬
tions on how to use that power, while feelings of power do not necessarily
do so. We will first discuss research into positions of power.
Positions of power
The effects of positions of power are often studied by using an exper¬
imental game paradigm. Typically, researchers using this paradigm ask
participants to play a game in which they can obtain or win something -
money, for example. Often they do so by negotiating with another party.
In game theory, researchers then study how changing some of the param¬
eters of that game affects players’ choices. When studying power, the
parameter of interest is control. If one player has more control over his
own or others’ outcomes, this player can be said to have a more powerful
position.
Within this paradigm, the most basic conclusion is that if players lack
power in a negotiation, they are more likely to give in to the other party.
For example, De Dreu (1995) conducted a study in which he had players
negotiate with an opponent (who, in reality, was played by a computer),
and he manipulated the power of those players versus their opponents by
manipulating the ability of both parties to hurt the other party. Both par¬
ties were told they had the ability to lower the other party’s assets (a form
of coercive power), but, crucially, this ability differed between conditions.
Some players could lower the other party’s assets only a bit (by 20%),
while other players read in the instructions of the experiment that they
could lower it substantially (by 50%) or greatly (by 80%). Furthermore,
participants also read that their opponent could lower their assets. Again,
some read that their assets could be lowered by 20%, while others read
thatthey could be lowered by 50% or 80%. Hence, the coercive power
of the players and of their opponents was manipulated independently.
The results showed that concession making mainly depended on the per¬
ceived coercive power of the opponent. If participants thought that their
opponents had a lot of coercive power, they made lower demands.
Handgraaf, van Dijk, Vermunt et al. (2008) reported somewhat similar
findings - albeit with an interesting twist. In the first place, they relied on
a different way to manipulate power. Specifically, they had participants
play a negotiation game, in which they were asked to distribute 1 00 chips
that in total were worth about $5, between themselves and a recipient.
20 Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest
This recipient could either accept this distribution or reject it. The crucial
manipulation involved what the consequences were in case of rejection.
In one condition, rejection would mean that neither party would receive
anything. In this condition, the participant and recipient did not differ
much in their power over outcomes. After all, although participants could
propose a very unequal distribution (for example, 51 for the recipient
and $4 for themselves), the recipient would most likely find this unfair
and reject it, leaving both parties with nothing. The participants should
therefore stay close to an equal distribution. Accordingly, participants
offered on average to give about $2.39 to the recipient and kept 52.61
themselves.
Three other conditions demonstrated this by manipulating the conse¬
quences of rejection by the recipient. Specifically, in a second condition,
participants were told that if the recipient rejected the offer, the partici¬
pant would still receive 10% of the offer. In this case they reduced their
offer by 23 cents, from 52.39 to to $2.16. Stated differently, if partici¬
pants were less dependent on the recipient’s decision - in other words,
if they had more power - then they proposed to keep more money for
themselves and proposed to share less money with the recipient. It there¬
fore should not be surprising that participants in a third condition, who
were told that rejection would mean that they would still receive 90%
of the offer, offered a mere 51-80 (keeping for themselves 53.20). These
participants had almost complete control over the outcome and were
almost completely independent of the decision of the recipient.
Crucially, however, participants in a fourth condition were told that
the decision of the recipient would not affect the distribution at all. That
is, the participant’s distribution was always followed, independent of the
recipient’s decision to accept or reject. Or, in other words, rejection would
mean that they received 100% of the offer. This position may be seen
as one of omnipotence; the participant has complete control over the
outcome and is completely independent of the decisions of the recipient.
Note that in this condition, economic rationality would predict that the
participants would propose a “distribution” in which they would get
all of the 55 and the recipient would get nothing. But Handgraaf and
colleagues found that, on average, participants still gave 52.22. Note that
this is descriptively more - not less - than the 51-80 they offered if they
had almost complete (90%) control over the outcomes.
Handgraaf and colleagues explained this finding by noting that if peo¬
ple are in an omnipotent position feelings of care take over. People no
longer try to get the best possible deal and force the opponent into
accepting a low offer, but rather experience a sense of noblesse oblige.
The authors therefore conclude that only the first part of Lord Acton’s
The effects of power on immorality
21
statement is true - not the second. Power corrupts - in the sense at least
that it makes people more selfish - but absolute power produces care and
compassion.
Focusing on another aspect of immoral behavior than outright force,
Koning, Steinel, van Beest et al. (2011) asked whether power can also
increase people’s inclination to deceive others. One way to deceive others
is by proposing an offer that seems attractive to them, but in reality
is only attractive to oneself. Power was manipulated by giving either the
allocator or the recipient the opportunity to destroy the outcomes of their
counterpart. Furthermore, both allocator and recipient were given the
opportunity to lie about the actual value of the payoffs. Contradicting the
idea that it is mainly the powerful who engage in dishonesty, the results
revealed that recipients who lacked power were the most likely to use
deception. The authors explained this by noting that participants mainly
deceive the other party if this is their only option. Powerful negotiators
simply use their power, but powerless parties need to be cunning. This
observation, of course, runs against the idea that corruption is limited to
those who have power. The powerless may also show dishonest, selfish
behavior, if this is their only way to defend their interests.
In summary, people who hold a more powerful position are more likely
to use this power and take a larger piece of the pie. Power allows people
to force the other party to accept a less attractive option. They may
be less likely to share or try to reach a compromise but rather rely on
their ability to force their negotiating partner to accept a worse deal. Of
course, this is not always the case. In negotiations, other considerations,
such as honesty and fairness, can also affect outcomes (e.g., van Beest,
Steinel, and Murnighan, 2011; van Beest and van Dijk, 2007). Such
considerations of honesty and fairness are likely to emerge if the powerful
become all-powerful. In such a situation of omnipotence, the powerful
may be less motivated to get the most out of it, but instead care for the
less powerful. Furthermore, although lacking power generally reduces
people’s tendency to try to openly force the other party to accept a less
attractive option, this does not mean that the powerless let themselves
be passively forced into a rotten deal. For example, they may be more
likely to use deception, if this is possible. Conversely, those who are in a
powerful position are less likely to degrade themselves by trying to trick
or swindle their opponent. Who needs deception if one can freely take?
Feelings of power
Positions of power can also bring feelings of power. Usually, the two
go hand in hand. If one has a powerful position, one may start to feel
22
Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest
powerful. But feelings of power can also have an effect outside the power
relationship. Managers may, for example, have power over their employ¬
ees and therefore feel powerful. These feelings of power may become
chronic, in the sense that managers even feel that sense of power if they
are in a different context. These feelings may even change the person¬
ality of those managers. As such, these feelings of power have also been
studied. A simple way to study power is to prime feelings of power. This
can be done in a variety of ways, but an often-used technique is simply to
ask respondents to briefly recall a personal experience in which they had
power (Galinsky, Gruenfeld, and Magee, 2003). Participants are asked
to provide a short diary entry about that experience and describe what
happened and how it made them feel. The trick about this is that if peo¬
ple recall such experiences in which they had power, then the feelings
associated with that experience return and affect subsequent decisions.
It is easy to imagine that if you think back about your wedding or another
happy day, you will re-experience the feelings associated with that day
and that this will lead to a happy mood. This happy mood will linger and
may affect decisions that you afterwards make - even if the thoughts of
your wedding have already left your conscious mind. The same can be
done with feelings of power.
Other techniques involve having participants adopt either a high-power
or low-power pose, by asking them either to expand or contract the body
(Carney, Cuddy, and Yap, 2010), or having participants sit in either large,
comfortable chairs that we associate with positions of power or in uncom¬
fortable, plastic, collapsible chairs that we associate with powerlessness
(Berdahl and Martorana, 2006). Even more minimally, participants can
also be merely exposed to words associated with power, such as “dom¬
inance” or “control” (e.g., Chen, Lee-Chai, and Bargh, 2001). Such
words can, for example, be included in a word-search puzzle that the
respondent is asked to solve, or they may be briefly flashed on a com¬
puter screen (so fast that the respondent cannot consciously read them).
Typically, participants behave differently after such a power-priming
task than after a control condition, in which participants are not exposed
to the concept of power. Interestingly, these effects occur independently
of any awareness of them by the participant. That is, participants are
often unaware of why researchers use these manipulations and that they
are used to induce feelings of power. This suggests that power can change
people without their awareness that such a change occurs.
Moreover, despite the minimal nature of such power primes, the artifi¬
cially induced feelings of power that result from them have a wide variety
of perceptual, motivational, and behavioral effects. The present chapter
does not have space for a complete overview, but a common analogy to
The effects of power on immorality
23
summarize at least some of the effects of such manipulated feelings of
power is that they resemble those of alcohol (Hirsh, Galinsky, and Zhong,
2011). One reason why people drink alcohol in social situations such as
parties is that it has a disinhibiting effect. It loosens up, adds fuel to the
impulses, and helps overcome natural inhibitions. Everything that peo¬
ple do at parties - talking, dancing, flirting - they do with more intensity
after drinking some alcohol. Power has similar effects. It leads to a more
disinhibited mind-set, whereby the powerful trust their feelings more and
follow their impulses (Anderson and Berdahl, 2002; Keltner, Gruenfeld,
and Anderson, 2003). People who do not experience strong feelings of
power hold themselves back, carefully think twice before acting, and con¬
sider first what others might think of their actions. But powerful people
do not. If they have their eyes fixed on something, they are more likely to
plunge themselves into action and follow their impulses (Galinsky et al.,
2003).
Although some impulses may be good, many of our impulses can lead
to selfishness, materialism, and greed. Our desires for money, status,
luxury, and sex form just some of the temptations and attractions that
we face on a daily basis. Because powerful people are more disinhibited
and likely to follow their impulses, they are less likely to resist such
temptations (Galinsky et al., 2003; Hirsh et al., 2011). This makes them
more likely to break moral rules. In a study by Lammers, Stapel, and
Galinsky (2010a), for example, Dutch university students were presented
with a dilemma about a stolen bike. In The Netherlands, bike theft is quite
endemic, and it is not uncommon to find stolen bikes abandoned along
the road. Technically, these should be reported to the police, but it is
generally known that - unless it is a fancy, new bike - the previous owner is
not likely to check at the police station in the hope of reclaiming the bike.
The price of a new lock is often higher than that of the bike. Lammers
and colleagues asked students whether they thought it permissible to
appropriate such a stolen bike, and found that feelings of power made
participants more likely to defend such behavior.
An interesting twist occurred, however, if participants were asked
instead whether it would be acceptable if Mark - an anonymous, fic¬
tional protagonist - behaved in this way. Lammers and colleagues rea¬
soned that, although people are tempted to take an old bike, they at the
same time also feel an impulse to judge others for doing the same. After
all, if someone else takes a stolen bike, it may be mine! They indeed
found that feelings of power made participants stricter in judging Mark.
Now the powerful suddenly found it quite unacceptable! Thus, feelings
of power can increase hypocrisy; that is, the tendency to condemn others
for violating the same rules as oneself. Power serves as a reminder to be
24
Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest
stricter on others, but it also serves as a cue that leads people to pursue
their own interests more.
Again it should be stressed that the disinhibiting effect of power that
drives this is by itself neither corruptive nor commendable. After all, it
only amplifies existing impulses. If those impulses are good, then power
leads to benevolence (Chen et al., 2001; Galinsky et al., 2003; Hirsh
et al., 201 1). A further reason why power is not necessarily corruptive lies
in the experience of power itself. When studying the link between power
and hypocrisy, Lammers and colleagues also found that this power — >
hypocrisy effect disappeared if people were not asked to recall a common,
standard feeling of power, but instead were asked to recall a feeling of
power that was undeserved or illegitimate. Participants were instructed to
recall situations where they experienced a position of power that they felt
they were not entitled to. When presented with the bike dilemma, these
people did not show hypocrisy at all. In fact, they were even were harsher
on themselves than on others - a reversal that Lammers and colleagues
termed “hypercrisy.” This finding fits in a wider literature showing that
many effects of power reverse if the powerful feel that their position is
unfair (e.g., Lammers, Galinsky, Gordijn et al., 2008; Rodriguez-Bailon,
Moya, and Yzerbyt, 2000; Sligte, De Dreu, and Nijstad, 2011; Willis,
Guinote, and Rodriguez-Bailon, 2010).
These results suggest that people with power take more not only
because they can get away with it - a function of the position of power, as
discussed in the previous section of this chapter - but also because their
mere feelings of power make them feel in some way entitled or privileged.
After all, if this sense of entitlement is removed, by having the powerful
think of an experience of undeserved power, the effect disappears. In
fact, the word “privilege,” which is derived from the Latin privus (“pri¬
vate”) and lex (“law”), literally means a private law or individual right to
act differently from the rest, exactly describing how the powerful seem
to take their position for granted. This therefore suggests that power is
particularly corruptive if it is not questioned. Unquestioned power leads
to hypocrisy. To avoid moral corruption, power should be questioned.
Nonetheless, there is also research that warns against that same con¬
clusion. In fact, this research shows that questioning power can even
exacerbate power’s corruptive tendencies. More specifically, this research
focuses on the dangers of power without status. This is a classic idea that
dates back to Max Weber’s (1991/1946) thoughts about the importance
of status. Weber noted that judges have significant power in our society.
They may sentence people to large fines and years of imprisonment. To
accompany this great power, judges are also required to dress in a par¬
ticular manner. They wear clothes that no other person would wear, to
The effects of power on immorality
25
symbolize that their power is not their own but that of the state. This
status symbol not only restricts their power (they cannot sentence people
outside their role) but also supports the exercise of power within that
role. It adds status to their power. Research by Fast and colleagues (Fast
and Chen, 2009; Fast, Flalevy, and Galinsky, 2012) shows that if power
is not accompanied by status, it can lead to undesired side effects. For
example, in one study, participants who were given power but also a low-
status role were more likely to abuse that power and order subordinates
to engage in demeaning activities, such as barking like a dog or telling
themselves that they are unworthy (Fast et al., 2012). Another line of
research shows that if participants are given a high-power position, but
actually feel inadequate, they are more likely to be aggressive towards
subordinates, in order to boost and restore their threatened egos (Fast
and Chen, 2009).
These findings - that those who feel powerful but also believe that they
lack status or competence are more aggressive towards others - seem
inconsistent with the earlier finding on the moderating role of illegiti¬
macy. After all, power that lacks status or is not based on competence
may be seen as less legitimate and therefore should be associated with
inhibition (and therefore reduced aggression). The solution to this incon¬
sistency seems to be that it may crucially depend on whether the powerful
internalize feelings of illegitimacy. In the priming instructions used in the
research by Lammers and colleagues, respondents are asked to recall an
experience of power that they feel to have been undeserved. They there¬
fore themselves question the legitimacy of their power. But in the research
by Fast and Chen (2009), for example, the powerful who lack status and
competency are likely to be more focused on whether others see their
position as illegitimate. Aggression is then a functional response, as it
may help to defend one’s position.
In summary, much like the research discussed in the first section, on
positions of power, this second body of research, on feelings of power,
also in part supports Lord Acton’s adage and in part qualifies it. Like
the research mentioned in the first section, it also supports the idea that
power can be corruptive. Yet it shows that this is mainly the case because
power disinhibits and therefore adds fuel to the pursuit of impulses. If
those impulses are bad, then power leads to immoral behavior. But if
those impulses are good, then power amplifies these positive tendencies.
In that case, power elevates.
The support for the second part of Lord Acton’s idea, that absolute
power corrupts absolutely, is also mixed. Some research shows that the
disinhibiting effects of power are strong if power is seen as legitimate, but
are weak or even reversed if power is seen as illegitimate. This suggests
26
Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest
that if power is questioned (if it is portrayed as illegitimate), its possibly
corruptive effects decrease. On the other hand, questioning power can
also have negative effects. If the powerful feel that others see them as
incompetent or do not give them the status that they feel entitled to, then
this may lead to even more corrupted behaviors.
Actual differences in power
A third and final line of research that we discuss here is one where power is
measured by comparing a great number of less and more powerful people
and determining whether their degree of power correlates with certain
behaviors. This is perhaps, at least in the eyes of the layperson, the most
straightforward approach. If one wants to know about the behavior of
the powerful, then why not simply observe a lot of powerful people and
consider how they are different from less powerful people. Yet, a problem
with this approach is that it can only show correlation. Powerful people
may differ in many respects from less powerful people. They are older,
richer, and better educated, for example. However, that does not mean
that these differences are caused by power. Perhaps wealth causes power.
Or education increases both wealth and power. Nonetheless, this third
approach is useful because it can serve as a confirmation of findings of
the previous experimental approach to the effects of feelings of power. If
feelings of power really affect the power holder, then we should find that
if we compare a large number of powerful with a large number of less
powerful people, the two groups will differ.
Using this idea, Lammers et al. (2010b, 2011) have conducted a num¬
ber of large-scale surveys among readers of Intermediair Magazine, a jour¬
nal aimed at professionals working in business and nonprofit companies
in The Netherlands. This offers a particularly good sample, because in
this sample power can be measured relatively easily and without many
assumptions. In other power hierarchies, this is less easy. Take, for exam¬
ple, politics. It is unclear whether the prime minister, the president, the
leader of the ruling party, or its chairman has the most power. If we ask
them, they will probably point to each other. Moreover, they might add
that the real power lies with the opposition, the bureaucracy, the media,
or even the people. This is not mere modesty. It is just very hard to quan¬
tify power. Look at Forbes’ annual list of powerful people. Who is more
powerful, Mark Zuckerberg or the Pope? Obama or Bill Gates? Michael
Bloomberg or Kim Jong-un?
But these problems are smaller in business. Most people would agree
with the assumption that top management has more power than middle
management, which has more power than lower management, which has
The effects of power on immorality
27
more power than nonmanagement. Using a large sample of managers,
Lammers and Stoker (2013) have found some interesting correlations
between power and other variables. Most fundamentally, the study has
confirmed a medium-sized relationship between power and behavioral
disinhibition. In a sample of over 3,000 Dutch managers, hierarchical
position explained 6% of the variance of an established measure of dis¬
inhibition, while a scale that also included a variety of more subjective
measures of power explained about 12% of the variance. Interestingly,
these data also showed a significant quadratic component, meaning that
the relationship between power and disinhibition is weak at the lower-
power strata, but much stronger at the higher-power strata. In other
words, people with some power are somewhat disinhibited, but people
with a lot of power are very, very disinhibited. In laypeople’s terms, they
are not just a little intoxicated by their power but seem to be blind drunk.
The correlational measure has also been used to study corruptive
effects more directly. For example, using the same population, Lam¬
mers and Stoker (20 1 3) presented a large number of respondents with
a scenario involving corporate selfishness: Would it be acceptable for a
CEO to award top management a 40% wage increase, in order to keep
salaries competitive with the market, while at the same time freezing the
wages of his other employees? The results of the study showed that the
power position of the respondents correlated positively with the degree
to which they thought this behavior to be morally acceptable. Respon¬
dents in nonmanagement and lower management found this behavior
less acceptable than did respondents in middle and top management.
This matches the earlier described effect of power on hypocrisy, in the
sense that the little people pay (salaries at the bottom are frozen) so that
the powerful can enjoy the spoils (the 40% wage increase).
Of course, this latter effect is only about the endorsement of ques¬
tionable behaviors - it is not about actual behavior. But another line
of research has also focused on the effect of power on whether peo¬
ple engage in questionable behaviors - although of a completely different
nature. Specifically, relying on a sample of 1,561 respondents, again taken
from the Intermediair readership, Lammers et al. (2011) asked whether
respondents had ever been unfaithful to their partner. The results showed
a positive effect of power, meaning that respondents with a high-power
position were more likely to have engaged in infidelity, even after con¬
trolling for gender, age, and education. Of course, these results may be
partially due to the fact that the powerful have greater opportunities
for infidelity. For example, men with power may also have more money
and a more expensive car, and this may make them more attractive in
the eyes of women (Dunn and Searle, 2010). Yet it seems unlikely that
28
Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest
this can explain the finding. First of all, the effect of power on infidelity
was as large for women as it was for men. Nonetheless, most men are
not very strongly attracted to high-power career women (Fiske, Cuddy,
Glick et al., 2002). Rather, it seems that powerful women engage more
in infidelity because they follow their impulses more. This explanation is
bolstered by the fact that the effect was driven by increased confidence - a
behavioral state closely associated with disinhibition. Moreover, powerful
men and women indicated a higher likelihood that they would engage in
infidelity. This suggests that they are at least partly aware of their difficulty
in controlling their impulses. Replicating this finding in a smaller sam¬
ple of 623 professionals, Lammers and Maner (2012) found that among
respondents who were in a nonmanagement position and also had a
committed romantic relationship, only 9% admitted that they currently
had a lover, while among respondents in top-management positions, this
percentage increased to 32% among men and a whopping 40% among
women. In other words, compared to respondents in low-power posi¬
tions, the likelihood of adultery was tripled among high-power men and
quadrupled among high-power women!
Discussion: does power corrupt?
Led by Lord Acton’s adage that power corrupts and absolute power cor¬
rupts absolutely, the current chapter reviewed three bodies of research,
all of which use a different way to answer that question. Some research
focuses on positions of power, while other research focuses on feelings of
power. The conclusions that these three branches of research reach on
the effects of power are partially overlapping, but also partially different.
If people hold a position of power, then they are aware of this and they
will adapt their tactics to this. For example, in the study of Handgraaf
et al. (2008), respondents know how much control they have over their
own and their negotiating partner’s outcomes. The more power they
have, the more they realize that their partner lacks power and that they
can therefore use their power and get away with it. Feelings of power seem
to have a different effect. Most notably, they lead to behavioral disinhibi¬
tion. Feelings of power do not lead to disinhibition because of a change in
perceived constraints, but because feelings of power automatically induce
a disinhibited mind-set.
Returning to Lord Acton’s adage, does power corrupt and does abso¬
lute power corrupt absolutely? Most of the time, power will have an effect
through both the position of power and the associated feelings of power.
That is, both mechanisms will work simultaneously. People who have a
powerful position will be more likely to use their power (De Dreu, 1995;
The effects of power on immorality
29
Handgraaf et al., 2008). This may lead them to force their favored out¬
come on powerless parties. This may lead to corruption, in the sense that
the powerful will be more likely to use methods - perhaps, any method -
that will get them what they want. Feelings of power that accompany
such a position will also affect the state of mind of the powerful and
lead to more disinhibited behavior (Galinsky et al., 2003; Keltner et al.,
2003). Much like alcohol, power can reduce self-control and lead peo¬
ple to cross boundaries (Hirsh et al., 2011). This may have corruptive
effects; the powerful may be more likely to use any strategy that they
think of to force the powerless party to accept their decision. But it may
also have positive effects. If the powerful have more positive intentions,
then disinhibition will increase these. Finally, feelings of power can also
have corruptive effects outside a direct power relation. For example, they
may lead to a more hypocritical view of moral issues (Lammers et al.,
2010a) or even increase adultery (Lammers et al., 2011). For these rea¬
sons, power can be a corruptive force. But it does not need to be and can
also propel the powerful to do more good.
Furthermore, if power indeed can have corruptive effects, then does
unrestrained power lead to much more negative effects than restrained
power? Does absolute power corrupt absolutely? The findings of Hand¬
graaf et al. (2008) suggest that this is not the case for positions of power.
If people have complete control over the outcome of a situation, they are
disinclined to use that control to its maximum. Omnipotence reduces
strategic considerations and the desire to beat the opponent and replaces
them by thoughts about care and kindness. Hence, for positions of power
it seems that absolute power does not corrupt absolutely.
For feelings of power, however, it does seem that absolute power is
more corruptive than moderate power. The findings by Lammers et al.
(2010b) show that feelings of power increase behavioral disinhibition, but
this power-disinhibition link grows strongest among the higher-power
strata. Now, disinhibition does not necessarily mean corruption. If the
powerful have a desire to do good, then those with absolute power will
be most inclined to do good. But given that disinhibition is also linked
to many negative effects, such as infidelity and hypocrisy, absolute power
may indeed be more corruptive than lesser forms of power. This conclu¬
sion is further supported by some experimental research. In particular,
research shows that this disinhibiting effect of power is there only as long
as power is seen as legitimate. If the powerful feel that their power is ille¬
gitimate, then that disinhibiting effect is blocked (Lammers et al., 2008).
On the other hand, if feelings of power are challenged more openly - for
example, by making the powerful feel incompetent or by removing their
status - then the powerful may lash out to defend their coveted position,
30
Joris Lammers and Ilja van Beest
and this may also lead to immorality (Fast and Chen, 2009; Fast et al.,
2012).
Conclusion
In summary, although the relationship is complex, power can - both
through the position and through feelings of power - strongly affect peo¬
ple’s behavior and have a corruptive effect. Power can amplify unwanted
tendencies and impulses. Much like alcohol, power tends to remove con¬
straints and make people give way to their desires, impulses, and whims.
If those desires, impulses, and whims are benevolent, then there is no real
problem. But if they are of a morally corrupt nature, then power corrupts.
This does not mean that all people with power are alike. In fact, because
they more easily follow their impulses, people with power are probably
less alike than other, less- powerful people. But it does mean that many
powerful people are at risk. Many forms of derailment among the most
powerful may be directly linked to the disinhibiting effects of power. This
means that we may need to help the powerful to deal with their power.
After all, it is the people with power who make most of the important
decisions in our society - not just politicians and administrators, but also
industrialists, bankers, and military leaders. If they, for some reason, are
at risk of being corrupted by their power (in combination with unwanted
impulses), then we need to help them control their impulses.
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3
Do we give power to the right people? When
and how norm violators rise to the top
Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef
A dominant idea in this book is the idea that power leads to corrupted
behavior, and this in turn makes people mistrust those who have power.
This popular idea has been repeatedly supported by scientific evidence
(e.g., Kipnis, 1972). What is unclear, however, is how corruption affects
a person’s power position. One would hope, perhaps, that power holders
who break the rules fall from grace and lose their power. But is this the
case? Or might the very act of breaking the rules actually fuel perceptions
of power? We develop a theoretical argument for the latter possibility,
which is supported by recent empirical findings, and we set forth three
propositions to elucidate this seemingly paradoxical finding.
To explore how breaking rules affects a person’s power position we
focus on the effects of norm violations on perceptions of power and on
power affordance. Norms are rules or principles - implicit or explicit -
that are understood by members of a group and that guide and constrain
behavior without the force of laws to generate proper and acceptable
conduct (Cialdini and Trost, 1998). Accordingly, we define norm vio¬
lation as behavior that infringes one or more principles of proper and
acceptable behavior (Van Kleef, Homan, Finkenauer et al., 2011). Norm
violations are ubiquitous and they come in many shapes. People put their
feet on the opposite seat in the train; the boss enters your office with¬
out knocking; friends carry on a loud conversation in the movie theater;
colleagues answer their cellphones while in a meeting; visitors drop their
cigarette ash on the floor of the cafeteria. How do such behaviors shape
observers’ perceptions of the actor’s power and concomitant power affor¬
dance? We propose that individuals who violate norms are seen as more
powerful than those who do not violate norms, and that such perceptions
may in turn fuel actual power affordance. Part of our argument rests on
The writing of this chapter was supported by a research grant from the Foundation “Pro-
pondis” awarded to the first author and a research grant from The Netherlands Organiza¬
tion for Scientific Research awarded to the second author.
33
34
Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef
literature regarding the link between power and tendencies towards norm
violation, to which we now turn.
From power to norm violation
According to the approach/inhibition theory of power (Keltner, Gru-
enfeld, and Anderson, 2003), the powerful are relatively free to behave
as they wish. High-power individuals encounter fewer social constraints
and more resource-rich environments (e.g., money, knowledge, support).
This activates their behavioral approach system, which is accompanied
by behavioral disinhibition. Low-power individuals, in contrast, experi¬
ence more social constraints, threats, and punishments. This activates
their behavioral inhibition system, which restricts their actions.
Indeed, high-power people appear to act at will without fear of negative
consequences. Individuals who feel powerful make more optimistic risk
assessments. This optimistic perception renders them more likely to take
risks - for instance, to engage in unprotected sex or divulge their inter¬
ests in a negotiation (Anderson and Galinsky, 2006). This is consistent
with research showing that power activates the behavioral approach sys¬
tem (BAS), which is associated with a heightened sensitivity to rewards
and opportunities (Smith and Bargh, 2008). Furthermore, power facili¬
tates goal pursuit by increasing the readiness to act in a goal-consistent
manner (Galinsky, Gruenfeld, and Magee, 2003), and by increasing per¬
sistence, flexibility, and ability to seize good opportunities for goal pur¬
suit (Guinote, 2007). High-power individuals express emotions, such
as by smiling, when they feel inclined rather than obligated to do so
(Hecht and Lafrance, 1998). They are also more likely to act according
to their dispositional inclinations (Chen, Lee-Chai, and Bargh, 2001) and
momentary desires (Van Kleef and Cote, 2007), and ignore situational
pressures (Galinsky, Magee, Gruenfeld et al., 2008). When interacting
with low-power individuals, for instance, high-power individuals with
a communal relationship orientation responded in socially responsible
ways and those with an exchange relationship orientation acted more in
line with their self-interest (Chen et al., 2001). The experience of elevated
power nourishes a strong inclination to disinhibited action that is freed
from social conventions. Accordingly, in a social dilemma, high-power
individuals were more likely to either give more from a common source
acting against the norm of personal restraint or take more than others
acting out of self-interest (Galinsky et al., 2008).
The combination of behavioral disinhibition with disregard for social
norms makes powerful people more likely to exhibit socially inappropriate
behavior. Compared to low-power individuals, high-power individuals
Do we give power to the right people?
35
are more likely to take excessive cookies from a common plate, eat with
their mouths open, and spread crumbs (Keltner et al., 2003); interrupt
conversation partners and invade their personal space (DePaulo and
Friedman, 1998); fail to take another person’s perspective (Galinsky,
Magee, Inesi et al, 2006); ignore other people’s suffering (van Kleef,
Oveis, van der Lowe et al., 2008); stereotype (Fiske, 1993) and patronize
others (Vescio, Gervais, Snyder et al., 2005); practice less strict moral
behavior themselves while imposing strict moral standards on others
(Lammers, Stapel, and Galinsky, 2010); take credit for the contributions
of others (Kipnis, 1972); and treat other people as a means to their own
ends (Gruenfeld, Inesi, Magee et al., 2008) - while high-power men are
more likely to sexualize and harass low-power women (Bargh, Raymond,
Pryor et al., 1995).
From norm violation to power
The above-mentioned theorizing and research show that there is a strong
association between power and socially inappropriate behavior. We pro¬
pose that this association is bidirectional. Because certain behaviors
are believed to be associated with power (Hall, Coats, and LeBeau,
2005), the cues themselves may signal power (Ridgeway, Berger, and
Smith, 1985). Past research has shown that, when people perceive oth¬
ers around them, they may use such cues to infer their level of power
(cf. Tiedens, 2001). For instance, individuals who display greater action
orientation are perceived as more powerful because they signal that they
have the capacity to act according to their own volition (Magee, 2009) -
a freedom that comes with greater power (Galinsky et al., 2003; Keltner
et al., 2003) . Extending this logic, we hypothesized that norm violators are
perceived as more powerful than norm abiders (Van Kleef et al., 2011).
In the first study by Van Kleef et al. (201 1), participants read a story
about a target person (termed “actor”) who exhibits norm-violating ver¬
sus neutral behavior. They imagined having to wait in a room in the city
hall. In the norm-violation condition, the actor helps himself to the staff
coffee when the service desk is empty. In the neutral condition, the actor
merely goes to the bathroom, and returns shortly thereafter. Participants
in the norm-violation condition rated the actor as more powerful than in
the control condition (e.g., “I think this person ... is influential”; “enjoys
considerable authority”).
In another scenario study, we replicated this effect in an organizational
context and investigated a potential explanatory mechanism behind it.
Participants read about a bookkeeper who either sticks to the rules or vio¬
lates the rules of bookkeeping. In line with our predictions, participants
36 Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef
perceived the bookkeeper who bent the rules as having more power -
e.g., “This person can influence other people’s pay level” (Hinkin and
Schriesheim, 1989) - and higher volitional capacity - e.g., “This person
feels free to do what he wants” (Magee, 2009) - than the bookkeeper
who followed the rules. Moreover, the effect of norm violation on power
perception was fully mediated by volition inferences.
In the next study, participants watched a short video clip featuring a
male actor in a cafeteria. In the norm-violation video, the actor puts his
feet on a chair, repeatedly drops his cigarette ash on the floor, and gives
an order to the waiter in an abrupt and rude manner. In the control
video, the actor crosses his legs, drops the ash in the ashtray, and orders
politely. Next, participants learned that the actor eventually received a
wrong order. We then measured power perception with the Generalized
Sense of Power Scale - e.g., “I think this person has a great deal of
power” (Anderson and Galinsky, 2006). We further included an indirect
measure of power by assessing participants’ expectations of the actor’s
emotional reaction and behavioral tendencies with regard to the wrong
order. Research on emotion stereotypes has found that high-power indi¬
viduals are expected to react with more anger and less sadness to negative
events (Tiedens, Ellsworth, and Mesquita, 2000) and, accordingly, to
exhibit more active (e.g., approach, confrontation) and less passive (e.g.,
inhibition, helplessness) action tendencies (Keltner et al., 2003) than
low-power individuals. As anticipated, participants in the norm-violation
condition perceived the actor as more powerful and they expected him
to feel more anger and less sadness, and to react with more approach
tendencies to the wrong order (e.g., “He will express his opposition”
and “He will ask the waiter to change his order”) and less inhibition
tendency (e.g., “He will try to stop thinking about the situation” and
“He will content himself with the current order”). These findings are
depicted in Figure 3.1.
Finally, we replicated the norm-violation-to-power effect in a face-
to-face interaction study. When the participants arrived, one confeder¬
ate was already waiting outside the lab (the “control” confederate, who
behaved appropriately throughout the session). The experimenter led
both inside the lab and told them that the experiment would start as soon
as the third participant (the “norm violator” confederate) had arrived.
The norm-violator confederate arrived 1.5 minutes late. He threw his
bag on the table in front of the couches where the participant and the
other confederate were sitting, and he put his feet on the table. Sup¬
posedly in preparation for a joint task, the participants then rated the
two confederates on a number of dimensions. Consistent with the other
studies, participants rated the norm violator higher on volitional capacity
and they perceived him as more powerful than the control confederate.
37
Do we give power to the right people?
6-i
5-
4-
3-
2-
1 J - H
Power
Anger
□ Norm violation
■ Control
Sadness Approach Inhibition
Figure 3.1 Effects of norm violation on perceptions of power, expected
emotional reactions, and approach/inhibition tendencies. This figure is
based on findings reported in Van Kleef et al., 2011, Study 3.
Mediation analyses showed that the norm-violation effect could be
explained in terms of volition inferences: norm violators were perceived
as having the freedom to act at will, fueling perceptions of power.
In short, four studies using different research paradigms and differ¬
ent norm violations indicate that norm violations can indeed produce
perceptions of power. This effect emerged on various explicit measures
of power as well as on indirect, unobtrusive measures, and it appears
to hold both when participants report on someone they have never seen
(based on descriptions or video clips depicting the person’s behavior) and
when they form impressions of someone with whom they have recently
interacted.
When do norm violators rise to power? Making
sense of a paradox
The idea that power corrupts and propels individuals to violate norms
is well documented and explains why laypeople are mistrustful and
38 Eftychia Stamkou and GerbenA. Van Kleef
suspicious of the powerful. Yet, the reverse possibility, that norm viola¬
tions fuel perceptions of power, seems paradoxical and also incompatible
with people’s frequently expressed wariness of the powerful. Our inves¬
tigation (Van Kleef et al ., 2011) summarized above showed that norm
violations may trigger perceptions of power. Nevertheless, people may not
necessarily perceive norm violators as worthy of power and grant them
power. In some cases, power perceptions and power affordance go hand
in hand. For instance, a person who defends her fellow group members
against an outside threat is likely to be perceived as powerful (because
she shows leadership) and to be afforded power (because she takes care
of the group’s interests). However, in many cases, power perceptions
and power affordance are disconnected. It is possible to perceive a per¬
son as powerful (e.g., because one knows that the person holds power
or because he shows stereotypically powerful behavior) while not being
willing to afford (more) power to this person. In a totalitarian regime,
people realize that their dictator has power, but not everyone may be
happy with this situation. Thus, if they were given the chance, these peo¬
ple would probably not vote for the dictator. Conversely, it is conceivable
that power is afforded to someone who does not appear powerful. For
instance, people may reward a person for behaving modestly by giving her
power (Keltner, Van Kleef, Chen, and Kraus, 2008), even though she did
not show stereotypically powerful behavior (in fact, the opposite) . Thus,
perceiving a person as powerful and being willing to afford them power
can be two independent processes (Van Kleef, Homan, Finkenauer et al .,
2012).
Furthermore, it seems unlikely (and perhaps disturbing) that norm
violators would always rise to power. The question arises, then, of when
norm violations result in the acquisition of power and when they do
not. In the remainder of this chapter, we advance three propositions that
aim to illuminate this issue and explain the paradoxical effect of norm
violation on power perceptions.
Proposition 1 : prosocial norm violations fuel power affordance, but
selfish norm violations do not
The reciprocal-influence model of power (Keltner et al., 2008) posits
that subordinates’ capacity to form alliances forces powerful individu¬
als to engage socially and advance the interests of the group, because if
they fail to do so their position may be undermined (for related argu¬
ments, see Boehm, 1999; van Vugt, 2006). Accordingly, the model’s
social-engagement hypothesis holds that power is afforded preferentially
to those who advance the interests of the group.
Do we give power to the right people?
39
Until recently, support for the social-engagement hypothesis was pro¬
vided exclusively by studies of socially accepted traits and behaviors such
as extroversion, playfulness, and generosity (see Keltner et al., 2008, for
a review). Thus, the question arose of whether socially unacceptable
behaviors such as norm violations would also lead to power affordance
as long as they benefit one’s social environment. Some norm violations
are inherently disruptive, such as carrying on a loud conversation in the
movie theater. Other norm violations may actually benefit one’s social
group. A famous example is Robin Hood, the legendary archer who stole
from the rich to help the poor.
A recent series of studies indicates that norm violations can indeed fuel
power affordance, provided that the norm violation is prosocial rather
than selfish (Van Kleef et al., 2012). In the first of these studies, partici¬
pants read a short scenario about a company outing with a tour bus. The
seat of one passenger (the focal actor) is already slightly tilted back. This
passenger decides to adjust his seat to either an upright position, resulting
in more legroom for the person sitting behind him (prosocial behavior),
or one further back, thus restricting the legroom of the person behind
him (selfish behavior). In light of the bus driver’s instructions, either
the passenger’s behavior constitutes a norm violation (i.e., when the bus
driver said, “Please leave the seats in their current positions, because if
they are adjusted further up or down they may become stuck”), or it does
not (i.e., when the driver said “Please do not eat or drink on board the
bus”). This study focused on perceptions of legitimate power (e.g., “This
passenger . . . has a legitimate right to influence others; . . . can make oth¬
ers feel that they have commitments to meet”), which form an important
precursor to power affordance (French and Raven, 1959). The results
showed that when the passenger behaved selfishly, participants rated him
lower in legitimate power in the norm-violation than in the control condi¬
tion. In contrast, when the passenger behaved prosocially, power ratings
were higher in the norm-violation than in the control condition. These
results demonstrate that prosocial norm violations fuel perceptions of
legitimate power, whereas selfish norm violations do not.
The second study employed a different experimental methodology,
investigated a potential mechanism underlying the aforementioned effect,
and used a more direct measure of power affordance. Participants
watched a 20-second film clip that showed a waiting room with three
actors. The main (male) actor would stand up after a few seconds to
close the window. His action had either prosocial implications (i.e., when
the two other actors, who were visibly cold, stopped shivering), or selfish
implications (i.e., when the two other actors, who were visibly warm, con¬
tinued fanning themselves). Additionally, closing the window was either
40 Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef
a norm violation, because there was a sign on the window saying “Do not
touch,” or not a violation (when there was no sign). Participants then
reported on their tendency to afford power to the main actor (e.g., “I
would like this person as my boss” and “I would like this person as my
political leader”) and rated the actor’s social engagement (e.g., “I think
he is . . . helpful . . . sympathetic”) .
When the actor’s behavior was selfish, power affordance was somewhat
lower in the norm-violation than in the control condition, and there was
no significant difference in perceived social engagement. When the actor’s
behavior was prosocial, however, participants perceived the actor as more
socially engaged and were more willing to afford him power in the norm-
violation than in the control condition. Further analyses showed that
perceived social engagement fully mediated the effect of prosocial norm
violations on power affordance. Yet, a question that was not addressed
by these two studies was whether selfish norm violations reduced power
affordance because they did not benefit other people or because they
harmed other people. If the negative effect of selfish norm violations
in the two studies described above was driven by their harmfulness,
there should be no difference between a norm-violation condition and
a condition where the actor’s norm violation neither harms nor benefits
others; that is, when it is inconsequential for the perceiver.
To investigate this, a third study compared prosocial to inconsequential
norm violations in a face-to-face experimental setting. Upon arrival in the
lab, participants received instructions that they would play a computer¬
ized board game with another participant, who was in fact a confederate.
Participants learned that before playing the game they would complete
a number of questionnaires. There was a desk in the room that clearly
belonged to the experimenter, with a computer, piles of questionnaires,
pencils, administrative paperwork, and a coffee pot with some plastic
cups. At a certain point, the experimenter left the room. Shortly there¬
after, the confederate stood up, walked to the experimenter’s desk, and
either got coffee for himself without offering coffee to the participant
(inconsequential behavior) or asked if the participant cared for a cup of
coffee, and if so, poured both of them a cup (prosocial behavior) . Of note,
before the experimenter left the room, he said that the participants could
take coffee if they wanted (control condition), or he did not invite them to
take coffee (norm violation condition). When the experimenter returned,
participants completed questionnaires in separate rooms, including a
power affordance scale (e.g., “I would let the other person . . . influence
the game”; “ . . . control my outcomes”; “ . . . have power over me”).
The results showed that participants conferred more power upon the
confederate when he got coffee without invitation than when he did
Do we give power to the right people?
41
5
□ Norm violation
■ Control
2
Prosocial
Inconsequential
Figure 3.2 Power affordance as a function of norm violation (stealing
coffee vs. taking coffee upon invitation) and prosociality (offering coffee
to another person vs. keeping coffee for self). This figure is based on
findings reported in Van Kleef et al., 2012, Study 3.
so upon invitation (norm violation main effect). Furthermore, when
the confederate’s behavior had prosocial consequences, norm violation
inspired more power affordance than no violation. When the confeder¬
ate’s behavior had no consequences for the participant, there was no sig¬
nificant difference (see Figure 3.2). These results indicate that the effects
of prosocial norm violations on power affordance generalize to face-to-
face interaction. Moreover, they suggest that selfish norm violations do
not undermine power as long as they do not harm other individuals.
Finally, this study indicates that acting prosocially does not necessarily
result in power affordance. The confederate who fetched coffee for the
participants was not afforded power when taking coffee was allowed, but
only when taking coffee was not allowed. Thus, intriguingly, prosocial
behaviors may fuel power affordance when they go against the rules.
These findings indicate that power is afforded only to those individuals
who violate norms in a way that benefits others. Individuals who broke
the rules at the expense of others were afforded less power than those who
obeyed the rules. Norm violations may lead to perceptions of power (Van
Kleef et al., 2011), but they only inspire power affordance when they
benefit rather than harm other people (Van Kleef et al., 2012). Norm
violators who act in favor of the group by breaking the rules may repair
or improve the group’s state of affairs. In this light, people’s choice to
confer power to norm violators may be functional for the viability of the
community and the advancement of its interests.
42
Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef
Proposition 2: cultural tightness and collectivism alter people’s
attitude towards norm violations
Norms cannot exist in isolation from the social world - they are defined
by and embedded in a social context involving the shared expectations of
others. Therefore, what constitutes a norm violation may shift according
to a society’s norms and the way those norms translate into behavior
(Goode, 2002). This element of subjectivity in norm violations opens
them up to different interpretations. We propose that the interpretation
and evaluation of the same norm-violating behavior may vary across
cultures as a function of the severity of punishment for norm violations
meted out in a given society (tightness vs. looseness) and the salience of
the group in individuals’ self-concept (collectivism vs. individualism).
Although norm violations can indeed signal power, it remains to be
seen whether this association holds in cultures that impose severe sanc¬
tions for norm violations. The way cultures differ regarding external soci¬
etal constraints is captured by the tightness-looseness dimension (Boldt,
1978; Pelto, 1968; Triandis, 1989). South Asian and Confucian nations
(e.g., Pakistan and Japan) are among the tightest whereas Latin Amer¬
ican and Eastern European nations (e.g., Brazil and Ukraine) are the
least tight. Tightness is associated with strong norms and low tolerance
of deviant behavior, which restricts the range of behavior deemed appro¬
priate across everyday situations and settings (e.g., cafeterias, libraries,
public parks, etc.). By contrast, looseness is associated with weak norms
and high tolerance of deviant behavior, affording a wider range of per¬
missible behavior across everyday situations (Gelfand et al., 2011). The
strength (or weakness) of everyday recurring situations within nations
simultaneously reflects and supports the degree of order and coordina¬
tion in the larger cultural context. Compared to individuals in loose cul¬
tures, individuals in tight cultures are more concerned with conforming
to normative rules and have psychological qualities that promote social
order. As a case in point, individuals in tight nations were found to be
less involved in actions that challenge societal institutions (e.g., demon¬
strations, strikes, and petitions) and to have a higher need for structure
(Gelfand et al ., 2011).
Given the greater preference for structure, norm violations may be
considered a threat to the social order in tight nations, since norm vio¬
lations by definition break with tradition. As a consequence, people in
tight nations may afford less power to individuals who violate the norms
than to individuals who abide by the norms, even if the former are still
perceived as more powerful. In loose nations, in contrast, deviations from
the norm may be seen as a way to produce social change, innovation, and
Do we give power to the right people?
43
creativity, and therefore norm violators may be embraced and afforded
more power than norm abiders.
Societies impose sanctions on norm violators because norms play a piv¬
otal role in the functioning of any group, regardless of how tight or loose
the society is. Norms ensure group survival, increase the predictability
of group members’ behavior, save group members from embarrassing
interpersonal situations, and give expression to the group’s central val¬
ues (Kiesler and Kiesler, 1970). Thus, violating a norm could endanger
the group (Feldman, 1984). This entails that the centrality of the group
in individuals’ self-concept, which is the core distinction between col¬
lectivism and individualism, may alter the meaning of norm violations
across cultures.1
In collectivist groups, there is considerable emphasis on relationships,
the maintenance of harmony, and “sticking with” the group. Members
of collectivist groups are socialized to avoid conflict, to empathize with
others, and to avoid drawing attention to themselves (Goncalo and Staw,
2006; Kim and Markus, 1999). In contrast, members of individualist
cultures tend to define themselves in terms of their independence from
groups and autonomy and are socialized to value individual freedoms and
individual expressions. In individualist cultures, standing out and being
different is often seen as a sign of character and courage (for a review, see
Triandis, 1995; Triandis, Bontempo, Villareal et al., 1988). Implicit in
the characterization of collectivist and individualist groups is the assump¬
tion that deviance will be downgraded more in groups that prescribe
collectivism than in groups that prescribe individualism. Indeed, empir¬
ical research shows that individualist group norms broaden the latitude
of acceptable group member behavior (Hornsey, Jetten, McAuliffe, and
Hogg, 2006) and non-normative characteristics (e.g., left-handedness;
Kinias, Kim, Hafenbrack et al., unpublished).
If individualist cultures encourage distinctiveness (Kim and Markus,
1999; Kim and Sherman, 2008; but see also Becker, Vignoles, Owe
et al., 2012) and thus tolerate deviance, then norm-violating behavior
might be interpreted as a sign of uniqueness and autonomy. We would
therefore expect that these societies would afford more power to norm
violators than to norm abiders. In collectivist cultures, however, norm-
violating behavior may be seen as a disruption of group harmony. We
would therefore expect that, even if norm violators are seen as more
1 Individualism-collectivism is distinct from tightness-looseness (Gelfand et al., 2011;
Triandis, 1989) even though they may be moderately correlated (Carpenter, 2000).
There are societies or groups that are relatively collectivistic and loose (e.g., Brazil, Hong
Kong), collectivistic and tight (e.g., lapan, Singapore), individualist and loose (e.g., the
USA, The Netherlands), and individualist and tight (e.g., Germany).
44 Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef
powerful, they would be afforded less power than norm abiders in col¬
lectivist cultures.
Based on the foregoing considerations, cross-cultural differences in
tolerance for deviant behavior (i.e., tightness) and individual differenti¬
ation (i.e., collectivism) may independently or jointly influence how the
members of a society evaluate and deal with norm violators. From a
social-evolutionary point of view, we would expect that the way societies
deal with norm violators may be functional within their own historical
and ecological context. For instance, tight nations may reinforce social
order and stability by excluding norm violators from positions of power,
whereas loose nations may pave the way for social change and innovation
by conferring power on norm violators.
Preliminary findings based on a Dutch sample show that within the
same culture individuals who show less conformity-oriented behavior
are more likely to perceive a norm violator as more powerful (relative to
a norm abider) than individuals who exhibit more conformity-oriented
behavior. These results demonstrate that individuals vary in the extent
to which they internalize or endorse a cultural ideal (Leung and Cohen,
2011). In The Netherlands, for instance, individuals who endorse the
cultural ideal of looseness by being less conformist themselves are more
likely to perceive a norm violator as powerful; for those who reject loose¬
ness, however, as they are more conformist, the effect of norm violation
on power substantially diminishes. This may imply that within-culture
variability of responses to norm violators may reflect between-culture dif¬
ferences, and this implication led the way to a large-scale research project
that examines additional cultures across the full range of tightness versus
looseness, which is currently underway.
The foregoing theorizing and research warrant the tentative conclusion
that the polysemy of norm violations may render them susceptible to
different interpretations across cultures. Our approach aspires to jointly
consider both culture and individual differences in an integrated account
that can capture most of the within- and between-culture variation in
people’s perception of norm violators.
Proposition 3: norm violations are an insidious means of hierarchy
reinforcement
Social hierarchies seem to be a universal default for human social organi¬
zation (Fiske, 2010). Hierarchies form rapidly in human groups, because
they require only minimal social interaction to emerge (Anderson and
Kilduff, 2009; van Vugt, 2006). Once formed, they tend to be self¬
reinforcing and long-lasting (Magee and Galinsky, 2008). Theoretical
Do we give power to the right people?
45
and empirical accounts suggest that the persistence of hierarchies may
be justified by their utilitarian value and processing ease (Keltner et al.,
2008). First, hierarchies are an effective relational form for coordinating
activity, allocating resources, increasing accountability, acknowledging
expertise, and efficiently executing a plan (Greer and Van Kleef, 2010;
Halevy, Chou, and Galinsky, 2011; Leavitt, 2005; Ronay, Greenway,
Anicich et al., 2012; Weber, 1946). Second, hierarchies seem to be fluent
social stimuli - that is, they are processed more easily and therefore liked
better than less hierarchical stimuli (Zitek and Tiedens, 2012). If hier¬
archies feature such qualities, people might seek them out, even without
necessarily intending to or realizing they have done so.
Indeed, although people usually endorse explicit statements about the
value of equality and reject explicit statements about the value of hierar¬
chy (Bellah, Madsen, Sullivan etal., 1996; Fiske, 1991), there is evidence
that they unconsciously enjoy dominance complementarity - that is, an
unequal distribution of power (Tiedens, Unzueta, and Young, 2007).
People’s desire for hierarchy could thus be an unconsciously held goal
rather than an explicitly stated goal. Even though it can be difficult to
establish the existence of unconscious goals, there is ample evidence that
unconsciously held desires affect people’s behavior and cognition through
mechanisms that are completely outside conscious awareness (Chartrand
and Bargh, 1996; Chartrand and Jefferis, 2003).
In fact, advocates of system justification theory argue that there is a
general ideological motive to justify the existing social order, which is
observed most readily at an implicit level of awareness and, paradoxi¬
cally, is sometimes strongest among those who are most harmed by the
status quo (Jost, Banaji, and Nosek, 2004). Research reveals that indi¬
viduals at the bottom of the social ladder work to support hierarchies by
making decisions that benefit those at the top of the hierarchy, even at
their own expense, and by showing favoritism towards those above them
(Umphress, Smith-Crowe, Briefer al., 2007).
Building on these notions, we propose that people’s tendency to see
power in norm violation and even afford power to norm violators may be
an implicit mechanism of hierarchy reinforcement. Because power leads
to behavioral disinhibition (Galinsky et al., 2003; Keltner et al., 2003), the
powerful are more likely to violate norms (Kipnis, 1972; Lammers et al.,
2010). Doing so in turn leads other people to perceive them as powerful
(Van Kleef et al., 201 1) or even confer power on them (van Kleef et al.,
20 1 2) . As individuals thus gain power, their behavior becomes even more
liberated, possibly leading to more norm violations, and thus evoking a
self-reinforcing process. This circuit from power to norm violations to
power affordance may play a role in the perpetuation and reinforcement
46 Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef
of social hierarchies, and it may also explain the congregation of norm
violators at the highest rank (Piff, Stancato, Cote et al., 2012).
If the norm-violation-to-power effect is part of a mechanism that bol¬
sters the status quo, it would be interesting to investigate whether people
are aware that their readiness to confer power on norm violators may
eventually support the social hierarchy. In other words, does this mecha¬
nism operate on a conscious rather than nonconscious level? If it works on
a conscious level, we would expect that, because lower-status individuals
are harmed the most by the status quo, they would be more motivated to
resist the status quo (Sidanius and Pratto, 1 999) and thus be less likely
than higher-status individuals to give power to norm violators. If, how¬
ever, this mechanism evolves on a nonconscious level, we would expect
that lower-status individuals, who have a greater need to justify the sys¬
tem in order to reduce ideological dissonance (Jost et al., 2004), would
be more likely to confer power on norm violators.
By contrast, those in the upper echelons of society should be less likely
to give power to individuals who break the rules, because rules maintain
and strengthen the social order, which in turn guards the status quo and
protects their interests (Cialdini and Trost, 1998). Furthermore, high-
status individuals have a stronger motivation to achieve and maintain their
social standing (Frank, 1985; Maner, Gailliot, Butz et al., 2007). This
renders them more competitive and reluctant to share their resources
(Piff, Kraus, Cote et al., 2010) and privileged position with anyone who
strives for power by showing stereotypically dominant behavior, such
as norm violators. By blocking norm violators’ way to the top, high-
status individuals may achieve a short-lived goal of preserving their own
little niche in the hierarchy - a strategy that eventually reinforces and
perpetuates the social hierarchy in the long run.
Preliminary findings from investigations in our lab indicate that indi¬
viduals may not be aware that their choices work to support the status
quo. In a scenario study, participants rated their self-perceived socio¬
economic status (SES) (e.g., “My family usually had enough money for
things when I was growing up”; Griskevicius, Tybur, Delton et al., 2011),
and then read a political candidate’s speech. The candidate was in favor
of either normative (e.g., “Rules are there for a reason”) or counter-
normative behavior (e.g., “Rules are there to be broken”). Furthermore,
the candidate declared his willingness either to follow or break the rules
in order to benefit his country. We added this information to control for
the effect of prosocial behavior by making all conditions prosocial. Then
participants answered a few statements measuring power affordance in
that particular context (e.g., “I would like this person to make deci¬
sions on important political issues”). The results showed that lower-SES
Do we give power to the right people?
47
participants were more likely than higher-SES participants to confer
power on a political candidate who was in favor of rule-breaking behav¬
ior. By contrast, the political candidate who was in favor of rule-abiding
behavior was afforded more power by higher-SES participants than
lower-SES participants.
Even though this evidence is only suggestive, it indicates that individ¬
uals who have a disadvantaged position are more likely to afford power
to norm violators, thereby providing a particularly insidious means by
which the social hierarchy is being reinforced and perpetuated. Those
who hold a privileged position, on the other hand, are more likely to
confer power on compliant individuals.
Epilogue
Scientific research has repeatedly confirmed lay beliefs about the power
holder’s tendency to behave in socially unacceptable ways. These behav¬
ioral inclinations provide in turn the right conditions that give rise to
suspicion and paranoia among those who lack power. From that per¬
spective, it is counterintuitive that this very behavior fuels perceptions of
power - individuals who break the rules gain power in the eyes of others
and may even rise to actual power positions.
To illuminate these paradoxical findings, we adopted a multilateral
approach that considered the social impact of the norm violator’s action,
the affordances of the cultural context, and the social standing of the per-
ceiver. We proposed and showed that only norm violators whose actions
have a positive impact on the group may be afforded power. Further¬
more, we suggested that the psychological meaning and thus evalua¬
tion of norm-violating behavior may be contingent on the tolerance of
deviance in a given society and the salience of the group in perceivers’
self-concept. Norm violators may be seen as agents of innovative change
and self-determination in loose and individualist cultures, and, as a con¬
sequence, they may be afforded power. Or they may be seen as advocates
of disorder and segregation, and thus unworthy of power in tight and col¬
lectivist cultures. Finally, we demonstrated how the link from power to
norm-violating behavior to power affordance may be an implicit mech¬
anism that bolsters the hierarchical status quo. This vicious cycle of
norm violations and power affordance may play a role in the emergence
or continuation of a multitude of undesirable social and organizational
behaviors, such as fraud, sexual harassment, and violence.
We consider the aforementioned ideas a particularly fruitful avenue for
future research. This research could further our understanding of how
norm violators rise to the top (Van Kleef et al., 2011, 2012), why the
48
Eftychia Stamkou and Gerben A. Van Kleef
proportion of norm violators is consistently greater in the highest rank of
the social hierarchy (Kraus, Piff, and Keltner, 2011; Piff et al., 2012), and
when norm violators can benefit societies and organizations by bringing
innovative changes rather than harm them by getting bogged down into
a power trip (Jetten and Hornsey, 201 1).
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4 The leaders’ rosy halo: why do we give
power holders the benefit of the doubt?
Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck
Political and military leaders cheating on their spouses. Heads of banks
committing widespread fraud. Religious leaders hiding abuse in their
ranks rather than reporting it to the police. From the famous statement
by Lord Acton to modern examples of power holders lying, cheating, and
stealing, it has become a truism that power corrupts those who possess
it. Given this apparently repeated association of power and corruption,
it should naturally follow for people to expect the worst from power
holders. Indeed, laypeople seem to regard power itself as a topic inappro¬
priate for polite conversation, and power-seeking behaviors as distasteful,
potentially harmful, and presumably self-centered (e.g., Ng, 1980).
However, other evidence suggests that individuals’ feelings about
power and those who possess it are more nuanced. Though some power
holders may be viewed with suspicion, many of them are admired, and
individuals generally desire some degree of control in their own lives
(e.g., Langer, 1975). We propose that, rather than being inherently sus¬
picious of those in power, individuals are generally credulous towards
power holders and see them in positive terms.
In the present chapter, we begin by examining power holders them¬
selves, detailing the multiple possible origins of the idea that power cor¬
rupts and discussing research that suggests a more nuanced view. Then
we shift focus to perceivers, first acknowledging ways in which perceptual
patterns may foster associations between power and corruption and then
presenting data showing that people might instead have a positive view
of those in power as a default. We review several reasons why such a pos¬
itive view is likely to be far more prevalent than is recognized. Finally, we
discuss the implications of this “leaders’ rosy halo” for both theorizing
about power and real-life hierarchies.
Corruption as a function of the power holder
Given the ubiquity of the notion that power corrupts, we must first
consider potential roots of this idea. One possibility is that power does
53
54
Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck
indeed corrupt those who possess it. In line with social-psychological
and related research on power, we define power as asymmetric control
over valued resources and outcomes (Emerson, 1962; Keltner, Gru-
enfeld, and Anderson, 2003; Magee and Galinsky, 2008; Thibaut and
Kelley, 1959). From this definition, it naturally follows that those who
have power are more independent than those who lack it (cf. Lee and
Tiedens, 2001). Perhaps this independence frees those with power to
behave without concern for others (e.g., Keltner, Gruenfeld, and Ander¬
son, 2003). A random sampling of news headlines of the last year reveals
multiple examples across numerous nations of bad behavior on the part
of power holders. Indeed, much of the social-psychological research on
power in the last few decades has also focused on the negative conse¬
quences of possessing power (see, e.g., Lee-Chai and Bargh, 2001). For
example, Fiske (1993) proposed that powerful people stereotype their
subordinates, both intentionally and unintentionally, whereas subordi¬
nates pay attention to those above them and seek individuating infor¬
mation about them (Goodwin, Gubin, Fiske et al., 2000). Power has
also been associated with other examples of antisocial behavior such
as reduced perspective taking (Galinsky, Magee, Inesi et al., 2006)
and increased self-anchoring (Overbeck and Droutman, 2013), greater
hypocrisy (Lammers, Stapel, and Galinsky, 2010), more negative eval¬
uations of others (Georgesen and Harris, 1998), and less distress and
compassion in response to another’s suffering (Van Kleef, Oveis, and van
der Lowe, 2008). In other words, the stereotype of the corrupt power
holder might have its basis in reality.
However, the evidence for the corrupting nature of power is more
mixed than is commonly thought. One problem is the often correla¬
tional nature of the data. In real life, individuals are rarely “randomly
assigned” to powerful positions; they are selected by others to be elected
or promoted to them. Unfortunately, various forces conspire to increase
the likelihood that the wrong people ascend to power. It can be dif¬
ficult to accurately assess the traits one would desire in a leader, and
the cues often used as evidence for these traits may be misleading. In
fact, sometimes these cues lead the worst people, rather than the best,
to be promoted to powerful positions. For example, in one set of stud¬
ies participants attained high-status positions in their social groups most
often when they were active participants in the group discussion and
thus appeared competent, even when private assessments revealed they
were not actually competent (Anderson and Kilduff, 2009). Individu¬
als who gain power but do not feel competent behave more aggressively
towards others (Fast and Chen, 2009). Similarly, narcissists attain posi¬
tions of leadership more often than nonnarcissists, in part because they
The leaders’ rosy halo
55
seem confident and authoritative (Nevicka, Ten Velden, De Hoogh et al. ,
2011). Narcissistic leaders do not seek new information and otherwise
tend to engage in risky and attention-grabbing behavior that leads to
worse group performance (Chatterjee and Hambrick, 2007; Nevicka
et al., 2011). In this case, it is not that power corrupts, but rather that
corrupt individuals may be more likely to obtain power and then are more
able to behave badly due to the power they have been given. However,
either case provides a realistic basis for the development of a belief that
“power corrupts.”
A more complex view of the power holder
Yet experimental power research also yields more nuanced results than
the blunt conclusion “power corrupts.” Power can lead to stereotyping
when a stereotype is available and relevant (Chen, Ybarra, and Kiefer,
2004; Vescio, Snyder, and Butz, 2003), but power also leads to more
individuation, with high-power individuals forming a more coherent,
accurate representation of another’s personality than low-power individ¬
uals (Gruenfeld, Inesi, Magee et al, 2008, Experiment 2; Overbeck and
Park, 2001, 2006). Power leads to less perspective-taking in some cir¬
cumstances (Galinsky et al., 2006), but increased perspective-taking in
others (Cote, Kraus, Cheng et al., 2011; Schmid Mast, Jonas, and Hall,
2009). Power holders are posited to be cognitive misers, reserving their
efforts for tasks that they deem worthy (e.g., DeWall, Baumeister, Mead
et al., 2011), yet those who have power frequently show equivalent or
better performance on cognitive tasks than those who lack it (e.g., Over¬
beck and Park, 2001, 2006; Smith, Dijksterhuis, and Wigboldus, 2008a;
Smith, Jostmann, Galinsky et al., 2008b).
Such seemingly contradictory effects may result from the same under¬
lying cognitive process. Because power creates a greater sense of social
distance in those who possess it, power holders should, and do, engage
in more abstract thinking than those who lack power (Huang, Galinsky,
Gruenfeld et al., 2011; Magee, Milliken, and Lurie, 2010; Smith and
Trope, 2006; Stel, van Dijk, Smith et al., 2012). The strength of this link
is reflected in its bidirectionality: Thinking abstractly makes a person
feel more powerful (Smith, Wigboldus, and Dijksterhuis, 2008c), and
appearing to be an abstract thinker, such as by using more abstract lan¬
guage, leads others to perceive a person as being more powerful (Wakslak,
Smith, and Han, 2013). Much of both the good and the bad behavior pre¬
viously associated with power is a consequence of this increase in abstract
thinking, as described in the social distance theory of power (see Magee
and Smith, 2013, for a review). For example, abstract thinking leads to
56
Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck
more stereotyping when a stereotype is available (e.g., Chen et al., 2004)
and more individuation (i.e., representing individuals in terms of traits)
when a stereotype is not available (e.g., Overbeck and Park, 2001). After
all, both individuation and stereotyping involve generalization: individu¬
ation involves generalizing from specific behaviors performed by a target,
and stereotyping involves generalizing from specific group memberships,
but in both cases the resulting inference is assumed to represent a rel¬
atively stable characteristic of the target person. A critical consequence
of the link between power and abstract thinking is that power reveals the
person. That is, abstract thinking increases the correspondence between
traits and behavior (Torelli and Kaikati, 2009), so that power holders
behave more in line with their values and personalities than those below
them. Thus, for example, power increases communal, selfless behavior
in those who by nature are communal or have a strong moral identity,
but decreases the same behavior in those who by nature are exchange-
oriented or have a weak moral identity (Chen, Lee-Chai, and Bargh,
2001; DeCelles, DeRue, Margolis et al ., 2012). This also means power
holders behave more in line with the goals they have (e.g., Guinote, 2007;
Smith et al., 2008b), and those goals can be prosocial or otherwise ben¬
eficial for their group, or antisocial or otherwise selfish (e.g., Galinsky,
Magee, Gruenfeld et al., 2008; Overbeck and Park, 2006; Karremans
and Smith, 2010).
Of importance, the basic link between power and abstract thinking is
functional, even if not all the consequences are desirable. Power hold¬
ers, due to their elevated position, have the big-picture perspective and
breadth of knowledge best suited to abstract thinking (in contrast to
those below them, who generally possess a narrower range of informa¬
tion). At the same time, this high-level view inherently reduces emphasis
on, or perhaps even perception of, the details. For example, a CEO,
being responsible for an entire organization, may be attuned to its sur¬
vival (financial performance), fundamental relationships (with external
stakeholders, the board, regulators), and future goals. However, she may
not be cognizant of how each of her decisions affects the activities, well¬
being, and security of each individual employee. As a result, the CEO may
appear corrupt when those decisions create adverse impacts on members
of the firm, even if risking the firm’s survival would have potentially worse
long-term effects on more people.1
1 Beyond the effects of a CEO’s own processing style, CEOs must more often deal with
major moral dilemmas than subordinates, by sheer nature of being the ones tasked with
making important, impactful decisions.
The leaders’ rosy halo
57
Corruption as a function of the perceiver
Even if power holders are not actually more likely to exhibit corrupt
behavior than those below them, various information-processing tenden¬
cies on the part of perceivers may nonetheless lead power holders to
be seen as more corrupt. First, power holders, and thus their behav¬
iors, receive increased attention from others due to the control they have
over resources and outcomes. As Fiske (1993) detailed in her “power
as control” model, subordinates need to, and generally want to, form
detailed impressions of power holders in an attempt to better understand
these people and predict their behavior. This heightened attention also
occurs because power holders are viewed as the representative of their
group or organization (because the most prototypical group members
frequently emerge as leaders, this can be logical; e.g., Hogg, 2001; see
also Overbeck and Droutman, 2013). That is, they stand for the group
itself, and thus, within a group context, they attract the most atten¬
tion. Indeed, individuals’ faces receive more attention and are better
remembered when they are simply labeled as holding a high-status (vs. a
low-status) job (Ratcliff, Hugenberg, Shriver et al., 2011). Such height¬
ened attention to power holders means more eyes are focused on their
behaviors, both positive and negative, so their slip-ups are more likely to
be noticed, not to mention broadcast to a wide audience (e.g., when a
mail carrier cheats on his/her spouse, it does not make the front page).
Furthermore, since negative information, particularly when it pertains to
morality (e.g., Skowronski and Carlston, 1987), is processed more thor¬
oughly, is remembered better, and has a greater impact on impressions
of individuals than positive information (i.e., positive-negative asymmetry
or negativity bias', see Baumeister, Bratslavsky, Finkenauer et al., 2001,
for a review), once any corrupt behavior on the part of a power holder is
noticed, it will have undue influence on how others view the power holder.
That is, the salience of both power and negative actions is heightened, so
that when the two co-occur, their effect on impressions is pronounced.
Second, because power holders and negative behaviors are distinctive,
the two are more likely to be erroneously associated in people’s minds.
Since people show better recall for distinctive stimuli, distinctive indi¬
viduals are particularly likely to be remembered when they do distinctive
things. As a result, perceivers will overestimate the likelihood of these
individuals performing that particular behavior, a phenomenon known as
This role of being the group representative may also contribute to power holders being
seen as corrupt. As representatives, power holders are often held responsible, both infor¬
mally and formally, for any inappropriate or immoral behavior on the part of individual
group members.
2
58
Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck
illusory correlation (Chapman and Chapman, 1967). Negative stereotypic
beliefs may be supported in part by illusory correlations. Hamilton and
Gifford (1976) presented participants with information about majority
and minority group members performing positive and negative behav¬
iors. They found that their participants overattributed negative behaviors
to the minority group members, even though the ratio of the positive to
negative behaviors in their studies was identical for the majority and the
minority group. Power holders are not only more distinctive than those
below them in the sense that they grab more attention, but they are also
numerically distinct. In any given social group, high-power roles are
ordinarily held by fewer individuals than are low-power roles. Therefore,
observers will be likely to perceive a correlation between having power
and behaving badly, even when no such correlation exists.
Finally, to the extent that perceivers have the expectation that “power
corrupts,” they will be prone to construing situations in a manner that
confirms their expectations (exhibiting confirmation bias; Snyder, 1984).
Many decisions made by power holders involve trade-offs among compet¬
ing interests and stakeholders. An outcome that is satisfying and clearly
ethical to one group may seem hurtful and immoral to another. Due
to their negative expectancies regarding power holders, perceivers may
tend to focus on the more negative interpretation of power holders’ deci¬
sions, highlighting harms and failures while overlooking positive out¬
comes. Even when a decision is truly ambiguous, and neither harms nor
benefits are clear, the lay belief that power corrupts may lead perceivers to
assume that there must be some nefarious consequence soon to emerge.
The rosy halo: power casts a positive light on
those who hold it
Given these reasons for having an association between power and cor¬
ruption, it would not be surprising for individuals to assume that power
holders are immoral and should not be trusted. Indeed, some evidence
suggests that people do take a negative view of those who have power
over them. For example, previous studies have found a negative asso¬
ciation between supervisors’ power and both subordinates’ satisfaction
(Bachman, 1968; Bachman, Smith, and Slesinger, 1966; Bruins, Elle-
mers, and De Gilder, 1999) and judgments of the supervisors’ likeability
(Bruins etal., 1999). However, we propose that this work - which has not
specifically examined judgments relevant to corruption, per se - does not
provide the final word. Instead, we propose that perceivers actually tend
to regard the powerful, particularly those who have power over them, as
more moral and less corrupt than those who are not especially powerful.
The leaders’ rosy halo
59
The notion that individuals view power holders in a positive light,
particularly in regard to morality and ethics, may contradict prevailing
beliefs, but past research provides several points of support. First, indi¬
viduals generally prefer to believe that the world is just and fair and that
people get what they deserve (e.g., the just-world hypothesis; Lerner,
1980). Similarly, system-justification theory holds that individuals are
motivated, both consciously and unconsciously, to perceive existing social
arrangements and institutions as just and legitimate (Jost and Banaji,
1994; Jost, Banaji, and Nosek, 2004). Acknowledging that one is forced
to conform to the rules, norms, and conventions of a system that is ille¬
gitimate, unfair, and undesirable is likely to provoke considerable anxiety
and threat (Kay, Gaucher, Napier et al., 2008). When little can be done
to change this reality, people will likely be motivated to justify their sys¬
tem to reduce these negative feelings and regain a sense of control over
their environment (Kay, Whitson, Gaucher et al., 2009b). Indeed, a study
by Jost, Blount, Pfeffer et al. (2003) investigated ethical inferences con¬
cerning real and hypothetical companies and found that people gener¬
ally believed that profitable companies are more ethical than companies
posting losses. That is, those who achieved success must be deserving
of it and can be trusted. In the current context, this research suggests
that individuals, motivated to avoid uncomfortable feelings of threat, will
be increasingly inclined to view an authority in a positive light as that
authority’s power increases. People may be motivated to perceive power
holders as moral and ethical because such perceptions reassure them that
the authorities who have control over their outcomes are benevolent and
trustworthy.
System justification motives are particularly likely to be active in those
low in power due to the nature of lacking power. Being subject to others’
control is a generally aversive and threatening experience. There is often
little low-power individuals can do about their situation, as those higher
in rank control resources, outcomes, and the opportunities available to
those below. Low-power individuals may have no choice but to accept the
hierarchy. As such, these people are likely to adopt a system-justifying
mind-set. In line with this idea, Kay, Gaucher, Peach et al. (2009a)
found that individuals generally viewed existing power arrangements as
more desirable than alternative arrangements, but this was especially true
for those high in system dependence (the degree to which they felt their
outcomes were dependent on the given system) . Stevens and Fiske (2000)
similarly found that evaluation-dependent individuals worked to form a
positive impression of a power holder, discounting negative information
about him or her. Thus, the more an individual feels dependent on
and vulnerable to particular power holders - the more power the power
60
Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck
holders wield over this individual - the more motivated the individual
should be to view them in a positive light, trusting them more to do the
right thing and generally showing more support for them.
If subordinates are assuming morality on the part of power holders
in part to legitimize their situation, then explicit legitimacy informa¬
tion should moderate this effect. When individuals are explicitly told
that a power holder obtained his or her position through illegitimate
means, system justification becomes futile: The hierarchical relationship
is overtly unjust and unfair. The illegitimate power holder will then not
benefit from the “rosy halo” normally obtained via system justification.
Instead, these power holders will need to provide evidence of their moral
credentials.
Another possible explanation for the “leaders’ rosy halo” follows from
the previously mentioned association between power and attention. High-
power individuals attract more attention than low-power individuals
(Ratcliff et al ., 2011). Due to diffusion of responsibility (Darley and
Latane, 1968), with so many eyes likely to be watching, individuals may
assume that someone else will be monitoring the power holders, so they
feel little need to obtain direct evidence of power holders’ behavior them¬
selves. After all, if power holders are so prominent and visible, someone
is likely to be keeping an eye on them, so they should be less likely to
behave immorally. That is, the powerful may be seen as more moral
not only because of perceivers’ motivation to see them as such but also
because perceivers simply assume that power holders lack the latitude to
transgress, even if they wanted to, because all eyes are on them.
Finally, the disconnect between the maxim “power corrupts” and our
arguments that perceivers likely see power holders as moral may reflect
the general disconnect between evaluations of a group and evaluations of
any one of that group’s individual members. In a classic study of the rela¬
tionship between intergroup attitudes and behavior towards out-group
members, the sociologist Richard LaPiere traveled with a Chinese cou¬
ple around the USA in the 1930s, when there was widespread prejudice
against Asians. Over the course of the trip, only one out of 251 hotels
and restaurants refused to serve the couple. However, when LaPiere later
contacted managers at the same hotels and restaurants and asked if they
would serve a Chinese couple, over 90% of those who responded said
they would not (LaPiere, 1934).
It seems that general attitudes towards a group are often a poor pre¬
dictor of behavior towards specific individuals (e.g., Azjen and Fishbein,
1977). In the case of power holders and morality, why might individuals
err on the side of perceiving individual power holders more positively
than power holders in general? Individual power holders are close to us:
The leaders’ rosy halo
61
Our outcomes are determined by them (Magee and Smith, 2013). This
level of closeness and dependency makes it difficult to view them so neg¬
atively (e.g., Stevens and Fiske, 2000). Furthermore, individuals know
more specific information about any one particular power holder than
about power holders in general. The presence of more information about
an individual group member, especially information that is irrelevant to
the stereotype of the greater group, weakens the relationship between
attitudes towards the group and behavior towards the individual, par¬
ticularly when the individual is a member of an out-group (Fein and
Hilton, 1992). Thus, because subordinates tend to know individuating
information about those who hold power over them, they will be less
likely to apply a general “power corrupts” stereotype to these individuals
and instead will view them more favorably.
Consistent with this argument, Critcher and Dunning (2013) showed
that perceivers tend to expect more moral behaviors from an individ¬
ual than from the population that individual is a part of. Specifically,
a randomly selected individual (e.g., an undergraduate at one’s univer¬
sity) was thought more likely to engage in moral or selfless behaviors
(e.g., giving money to the homeless) than the full population (e.g., the
entire student body). Similarly, Sears (1983) found that perceivers rated
individual politicians (e.g., specific US senators) more positively than
politicians in general. In like manner, we suspect that individual power
holders may be seen in positive moral terms even as the “power corrupts”
group stereotype persists.
Evidence for the rosy halo
Little work has explicitly examined how perceivers regard the powerful,
but a recent series of studies offers support for our arguments. Overbeck,
Tost, and Wazlawek (2013) asked participants to directly report their
impressions of power holders’ moral character - the holding of moral
values and willingness to act on those values (cf. Hogan, 1973) - and
found consistent evidence contradicting the “power corrupts” perspec¬
tive. In an initial online experiment, participants were asked to imagine a
single target person. The only information participants were given about
this person was that he or she possessed either a low-power or a high-
power position in an organization. Power was explicitly defined in terms
of control over the distribution of valued resources and decision-making
about personnel. Participants then rated this target person on eight dif¬
ferent attributes, all relating to moral character (e.g., “X models ethical
conduct,” “X lacks a strong moral compass”). In contrast to the com¬
mon belief that power is associated with corruption, participants rated the
62
Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck
high-power target person as being significantly higher in moral character
than the low-power target person.
Of course, this experiment used very minimal descriptions and asked
about a hypothetical target, which may elicit different responses than
specific real-life power holders. Thus, Overbeck et al. (2013) next sought
to test the relation between power and moral judgments in the context
of real authorities and organizations. In a follow-up study, they took
advantage of the presence of a variety of high-power individuals in an
executive education class on leadership to see how these real-life power
holders were perceived by the employees who reported directly to them.
In this survey, the direct reports rated their supervisor’s level of power
and his/her moral character (e.g., “takes responsibility for doing what is
right,” “argues for high ethical standards”). Replicating the results of the
first study, this study found that the more power the supervisor had, the
more he or she was judged to have high moral character.
How far does this assumption of morality go? That is, to what extent
do individuals give power holders the benefit of the doubt? Overbeck
et al. were interested in the degree to which this assumption of morality
on the part of power holders might substitute for other signs of trustwor¬
thiness. Transparency - the open provision and availability of information
regarding decision-making - can act as a heuristic for gauging someone’s
moral status. Not only does transparency allow for greater surveillance
of a person’s behavior to ensure the person complies with moral norms,
but the willingness to be transparent serves as a signal that the person
plans to comply with these norms in the first place. Thus, the more a
perceiver knows about the processes and reasons behind a person’s deci¬
sions, the more easily the perceiver should be persuaded that this person
is behaving in line with moral norms (Rawlins, 2008). However, if a per¬
ceiver is predisposed to view the authority as moral for reasons separate
from transparency, then the authority’s transparency is likely to be less
critical in determining judgments of morality. That is, when the per¬
ceiver already has other reasons for presuming the authority to be moral,
transparency is a less essential signal, both because in such a situation
transparency offers little new information diagnostic of the authority’s
morality and because surveillance is seen as less necessary. Therefore, if
power holders are by default assumed to be moral, whether or not they
are transparent regarding their decision-making processes will have less
impact on judgments of their morality: Even a tight-lipped power holder
will be judged as relatively moral.
In the second study, participants also rated their supervisor’s trans¬
parency in terms of the provision of explanations for decisions (i.e.,
“is careful to explain his/her decisions,” “explains how decisions are
The leaders’ rosy halo
63
— ♦ — Low power
- -*■ - High power
Figure 4. 1 Effect of supervisors’ power and transparency on judgments
of their moral character.
made”). Transparency was positively related to judgments of the super¬
visor’s moral character, but this was moderated by an interaction with the
supervisor’s power. There was a stronger positive effect of transparency
when supervisors were perceived as having a low rather than a high level
of power (see Figure 4.1). Though being transparent also helped high-
power supervisors to be judged as more moral, it did not help them as
much as low-power supervisors. In fact, they did not need the boost:
High-power supervisors who were low in transparency were still judged
to be relatively moral.
One important implication of these effects regards the degree to which
subordinates support their supervisors. Trust in the moral integrity of
a colleague is a key determinant of support for him or her (Dirks and
Ferrin, 2002). Transparency, as it increases perceptions of a colleague
as moral, should increase support for that colleague (Norman, Avolio,
and Luthans, 2010). However, if an observer is predisposed to perceive
power holders as moral and ethical, transparency should have less of an
effect on support because it provides the observer with little new informa¬
tion regarding the power holder’s worthiness for support. Indeed, when
participants indicated the degree to which they evaluated their supervi¬
sor positively (e.g., “is an exceptional leader”), there was a significant
interaction between power and transparency. Again transparency had a
stronger effect when supervisors were perceived as having a low rather
than a high level of power (see Figure 4.2). Notably, although high-
power supervisors with high transparency were judged most positively,
64
Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck
7
6.8
6.6
6.4
V, 6-2
o
I 6
5 5.8
5.6
5.4
5.2
5
Low transparency High transparency
Figure 4.2 Effect of supervisors’ power and transparency on support
for them.
high-power supervisors with low transparency were still judged at least
as positively as low-power supervisors with high or low transparency.
Further analyses revealed that these effects were partially mediated by
perceptions of moral character. In other words, high power appears to
foster perceptions of morality, and these perceptions lead to increased
support on the part of subordinates, even in the absence of transparency.
Across both an experiment involving hypothetical targets varying in
power and a field survey involving subordinates and supervisors in ongo¬
ing power relationships, Overbeck et al. (2013) found that more powerful
individuals were judged to have higher moral character. Furthermore, this
assumption of the greater morality of power holders was strong enough
that high-power individuals did not need to be transparent regarding
their decision-making processes to be seen as moral and to receive sup¬
port from their subordinates. Rather than “power corrupts,” people seem
to assume that “power purifies.”
Overbeck et al. (2013) further tested the boundaries of perceivers’
credulity by examining university students’ reactions to ostensible budget
cuts at their university. All participants read a description of a fictional
person, Mark Jones, supposedly the university’s head treasury officer
(HTO), who was said to be leading a budget-cutting and allocation pro¬
cess at their university. In these descriptions Mark varied in terms of
the power he held, the legitimacy of his position, and his transparency
about recent decisions. Mark was described as having either low power
(e.g., “there are a lot of restrictions on his authority”) or high power
The leaders’ rosy halo
65
C3
U
©
£
OX)
3
6.00
5.00
4.00
3.00
2.00
1.00
.00
ll Jl
i
■ Low transparency
■ High transparency
High power, High power, Low power, Low power,
High legitimacy Low legitimacy High legitimacy Low legitimacy
Figure 4.3 Effect of supervisors’ power, legitimacy, and transparency
on judgments of their moral character.
(e.g., “he can essentially make the decision without any restrictions on
his authority”). He either had “not much experience in this area” and
was appointed by a family member to the position (low legitimacy), or
had “extensive experience and a long list of accomplishments” and was
elected to his position democratically (high legitimacy). Finally, he either
had been providing “very little information” about recent decisions (low
transparency) or had “issued a report providing extensive details about
these decisions” (high transparency). After reading the description of
Mark, participants rated how much morality-related descriptions (e.g.,
“ethical,” “selfish”) applied to Mark and how much they supported Mark
(e.g., “I’m comfortable looking to Mark Jones for leadership”).
As predicted, the effect of transparency on judgments of Mark’s moral
character depended on Mark’s level of power and the legitimacy of that
power (see Figure 4.3). As in the previous study, more transparency was
always beneficial for Mark when he was low in power, regardless of the
legitimacy of his position, and transparency did not matter when he had
high, legitimate power, as he was then always viewed as being high in
moral character. However, when Mark’s power was high yet illegitimate,
things changed: Here he was viewed as being higher in moral charac¬
ter the more transparent he was. Once participants had clear evidence
that Mark’s position could not be justified, they could no longer default
to viewing him as moral and instead needed concrete evidence of his
66
Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck
character. Similar effects were found on the amount of support partici¬
pants were willing to give Mark.
Conclusions and implications
On the surface, the idea that “power corrupts” seems to be taken as a
given, trotted out by journalists and newscasters anytime a leader behaves
scandalously. In this chapter, we attempted to bring some nuance to
this blunt generalization. First, we demonstrated how power does not
necessarily have a corrupting effect on individuals, but rather that both
positive and negative effects may stem from the same basic, functional
cognitive mechanism of power holders’ greater abstract thinking (Magee
and Smith, 2013). We also explained how the distinctive nature of having
power can lead power holders to appear to be more immoral, even when
they are not behaving any worse than everyone else.
Second, we discussed why, despite the apparent ubiquity of “power
corrupts,” people might instead default to assuming that an individ¬
ual power holder, especially one who directly wields power over them
personally, will actually be more moral than someone lacking in power.
Assuming by default that power holders are moral and thus can be trusted
and supported may help low-power individuals cope with the threaten¬
ing nature of their position. Indeed, when power holders clearly do not
deserve the position they hold, they again need to provide evidence that
they are behaving ethically before they are seen as moral and ethical. The
attention that power holders grab may lead others to assume that power
holders will behave morally because they are being watched. Addition¬
ally, people may still hold the stereotype that power holders in general
are corrupt, but various cognitive processes lead this stereotype not to be
applied to specific power holders.
Third, we discussed data supporting this idea of the “leader’s rosy
halo.” One consequence is that power holders have less of a need to
demonstrate they are indeed behaving ethically (e.g., by being transpar¬
ent) in order to be seen as moral and ethical.
This chapter offers a number of theoretical and practical contributions.
To begin, we hope to push the discussion of what power does to those who
possess it further away from black-and-white debates of “it’s bad” ver¬
sus “it’s good,” to more nuanced considerations of exactly what power
does to people, when, and why. Power is a fundamental dimension of
human relationships and a primary method of organizing social relations
(Cartwright, 1959; Fiske, 1992). Hierarchies often facilitate coordina¬
tion, reduce conflict, and satisfy the human need for order and stability
(Magee and Galinsky, 2008); in other words, they persist in part because
The leaders’ rosy halo
67
they are functional. If all power holders were by definition corrupt, the
world would quickly dissolve into chaos. Furthermore, proposing that
power is inherently bad may be seen as its own form of system justifica¬
tion, a way of letting those without power feel that they actually are in
the better position (Kay and Jost, 2003).
Next, we echo many recent researchers in emphasizing the importance
of putting the right people into positions of power (e.g., Galinsky et al.,
2008). Power reveals the person. It gives power holders external sup¬
port to pursue their goals by providing access to resources and remov¬
ing barriers and constraints (Keltner et al., 2003). It also gives power
holders internal support by helping them ignore distractions and stay
goal-focused (DeWall et al., 2011; Guinote, 2007; Smith et al., 2008b).
It is thus critical to select, for positions of power, people who hold the
sorts of goals that are most beneficial for the group (e.g., Karremans and
Smith, 2010; Overbeck and Park, 2006). In this way, one can be more
certain that power holders will indeed “do the right thing.” This certainty
is especially important given that people’s default appears to be not to
check for hard evidence of right- or wrongdoing on the part of power
holders.
We also extend existing research on how status and power differences
affect social judgments (e.g., Fragale, Overbeck, and Neale, 2011) by
demonstrating that individuals do not always make negative assumptions
about power holders. The studies of Overbeck et al. (2013) demonstrate
that power is positively associated with judgments of moral character
and diminished needs for transparency. Such a pattern stands in stark
contrast both to previous literature and to scholarly and popular dis¬
course. Given the surprising nature of these findings, follow-up research
is necessary to determine the underlying mechanisms of this effect, as
well as potential boundary conditions. Recent research has shown that,
when individuals’ sense of personal control is threatened, they respond
in a compensatory manner by heightening their sense of external order
and control; among other things, they tend to bolster their sense of the
legitimacy of authorities (Kay et al., 2009b), consistent with our findings.
Finally, our arguments - and the evidence supplied by Overbeck et al.
(2013) - underscore an important caution: Credulity towards the power¬
ful creates vulnerability. With legitimately acquired power, an actor can
behave more freely, with fewer constraints and less demand for trans¬
parency. Yet this very freedom may foster less moral behavior, as sug¬
gested in recent work by Lammers and colleagues (2010) and Gruenfeld
and colleagues (2008). As such, organizations would be well served by
implementing formal systems that preserve transparency and compensate
for members’ natural tendency to forgo monitoring of the powerful.
68
Pamela K. Smith and Jennifer R. Overbeck
Abraham Lincoln has been quoted (probably erroneously; Leidner,
n.d.) as saying, “If you want to test a man’s character, give him power.”
Similarly, we argue that power can be associated with corruption or
morality, depending on the character of the power holder and the circum¬
stances under which he or she holds power. And, despite the common
belief that power corrupts, individual perceivers judging individual power
holders tend to show trust, credulity, latitude, and support towards the
powerful. This may ease the burdens of subordinate status among all
those who lack power, but, sadly, it does little to prevent the kinds of
abuse reviewed at the start of this chapter.
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5 “Power corrupts” revisited: the role of
construal of power as opportunity or
responsibility
Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and
Annika Scholl
With the recent financial crises the stereotype that power corrupts
returned to public discussion. The news media have often asked why
bankers took such high risks to increase their personal income while they
seemingly ignored the responsibility resulting from the fact that others’
savings and pensions depend on the bankers’ behavior. Indeed, the defi¬
nition of power as the asymmetrical control over others’ outcomes might
suggest that those in power primarily consider the opportunities social
power represents. But is it true that power holders mostly overlook the
responsibility resulting from the fact that they can provide or withhold oth¬
ers’ access to desired outcomes? Do they forget that those low in power
depend on them, or are vulnerable to the effects of their actions? And
does this depend on individual preferences in terms of interest in power
and the motivation to achieve power in the first place?
The present chapter provides an answer to these questions about the
construal of power as opportunity and responsibility, in three steps. First,
we review research providing insights into whether power leads to self-
serving behavior (i.e., making use of the opportunity power provides) or
to the consideration of others’ perspectives and interests (i.e., the respon¬
sibility for others), in order to answer the question of whether there is a
truth in the stereotype that power corrupts. This review will be embed¬
ded in a brief summary of the main theoretical approaches to power in
social psychology. Second, we introduce the distinction between the con¬
strual of power as opportunity versus responsibility and current research
on the impact of construal of power on interest in power. These studies
provide an answer to the question of whether the construal of power as
opportunity is indeed what motivates people to strive for power in the
first place - if so, that would provide a reason why power is in many
cases treated as opportunity (i.e., leads to more selfish behavior). Third,
73
74
Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl
we summarize research addressing (the preconditions of) the construal
of power as opportunity and responsibility, as well as its implications for
the actions of the powerful. These sections suggest that there is no need
to be paranoid about the powerful under conditions that cause power to
be perceived and exercised primarily as responsibility, instead of oppor¬
tunity. The chapter is completed by a section summarizing the latest
research on the meaning of power as opportunity versus responsibility,
and pointing to avenues for further research.
From power to responsible action
Psychological research on the impact of power on individuals’ own
behavior originates mostly in one of two traditions: the group-dynamic
approach and the sociocognitive approach.
The group-dynamic approach developed taxonomies of resources (e.g.,
rewards, expertise) by which people can gain control over others (e.g.,
French and Raven, 1959). Studies examined how these resources relate to
interpersonal influence in natural and simulated groups (Emerson, 1964;
Kipnis, 1972). This work suggested that people generally covet power
(Mulder, 1977) and attempt to take over higher-power positions (Bruins
and Wilke, 1992). The introduction of power differences easily disrupts
harmonious social relations, because those high in power tend to devalue
the performance of those low in power and attribute their effort to the
influence of the powerful rather than to powerless individuals’ motivation
(i.e., objectification - Kipnis, 1972). Moreover, power holders tend to
use their power to facilitate individual goal achievement at the expense
of others (Ng, 1980).
These insights still dominate current views on the social implications
of power. However, scholars have argued for a reappraisal of insights on
power, in the light of novel theoretical and methodological developments
(e.g., Haslam, 2004). In line with this, it has been shown, for exam¬
ple, that the attraction of power is limited to certain motivational states
(Sassenberg, Brazy, Jonas et al, 2013; Sassenberg and Scholl, 2013) and
that the impact of power on action is also dependent on power hold¬
ers’ social motivation, as will become evident from the summary below
(e.g., Guinote, Weick, and Cai, 2012). In addition, the group-dynamics
approach has paid relatively little attention to the psychological processes
underlying the effects found - for example, the crucial role of the way in
which power is cognitively construed.
The sociocognitive approach to power has yielded new methodological
developments (e.g., priming, implicit measures), studied intraindivid¬
ual processes underlying power, and manipulated rather than measured
power to be able to draw conclusions about causality. Hence, the key
The construal of power as opportunity vs. responsibility
75
characteristics of this approach made up for the limitations of large
parts of the group-dynamics approach. In addition, the sociocognitive
approach comes with a shift of the focus from structural differences in
actual power to cognitively represented differences in power. This allows
also for a more differentiated approach concerning the understanding
(i.e., the construal) of power that lies at the heart of our own research
presented below.
The theoretical approaches dominating this research are the approach/
inhibition theory of power (AITP) (Keltner, Gruenfeld, and Anderson,
2003) and the situated focus theory of power (SFTP) (Guinote, 2007a,
2010). Both theories focus on the self-regulatory implications of high
and low power. AITP suggests that high power leads to the activation of
the behavioral approach system, and low power leads to the activation of
the behavioral inhibition system, because the control among the powerful
implied by their power reduces the requirement to care about restrictions
and regulations suggested by the environment, whereas the lack of con¬
trol among the powerless requires that they adjust their behavior in line
with the guidance provided by the powerful. Due to the impact on the
approach and the inhibition system, elevated power elicits a readiness to
act. Individual motivation and inner experiences (e.g., feelings) guide the
powerful more than the powerless.
Focusing more on information processing than on the motivational and
psychological underpinnings, SFTP contains a slightly nuanced main
prediction. It suggests that those in power are guided to a stronger extent
by their current attentional and self-regulatory focus. In other words,
high power allows individuals to do what is foremost in their minds,
whether this results from situational influences or long-term goals. In
contrast, those low in power suffer from less goal-focused information
processing and action regulation, and this might ultimately result in lower
goal achievement. SFTP argues that this outcome of power results from
the fact that the powerful (due to their elevated control) can concentrate
better on their current agenda, whereas those low in power always need
to pay attention to potential threats and interventions by those high in
power (Guinote, 2007a, 2010).
In essence, both theories agree that the powerful show more unin¬
hibited goal-directed or approach-related action and are less likely to
be distracted by the environment. Numerous findings support these
predictions. For instance, compared to those low in power, the pow¬
erful act more (Anderson and Berdahl, 2002), show stronger approach
tendencies (Maner, Kaschak, and Jones, 2010), are less influenced by
environmental cues (Galinsky, Magee, Gruenfeld et al., 2008), and are
more focused in their goal striving (Guinote, 2007b; Slabu and Guinote,
2010).
76
Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl
All in all, this provides pervasive evidence that power leads to a strong
focus on one’s own goals - and this is certainly selfish in a way. But what
about the impact of power on considering others and their needs? Despite
the fact that both AITP and SFTP do not directly speak to interpersonal
issues in general or to responsibility in particular, they allow us to derive
predictions in the interpersonal domain due to effects on information
processing. The fact that the powerful tend to focus on themselves and
need to care less about others suggests that they will invest less in per¬
spective taking (Fiske, 1993). Indeed, there is evidence that the powerful
show less empathy or reciprocal emotions (Galinsky, Magee, Inesi et al,
2006; Gonzaga, Keltner, and Ward, 2008; Van Kleef, Oveis, van der
Lowe et al., 2008; Woltin, Corneille, Yzerbyt et al., 2011). Consistent
with this finding, those high in power, compared to those low in power,
rely more on stereotypes (rather than individualizing information, e.g.,
Fiske, 1993; Guinote and Phillips, 2010; Guinote, Willis, and Martel-
lotta, 2010), are less influenced by others (Galinsky, Magee, Gruenfeld
et al., 2008; Van Kleef, De Dreu, Pietroni et al., 2006), behave less altru¬
istically due to greater perceived social distance (Lammers, Galinsky,
Gordijn et al., 2012), and consider the powerless merely as a means for
goal attainment (i.e., they show objectification; Gruenfeld, Inesi, Magee
et al., 2008). In addition, when they are of low status the powerful behave
in less inhibited (e.g., more aggressive; Fast and Chen, 2009; Gonzaga
et al., 2008) and more demeaning ways towards others (Fast, Halevy,
and Galinsky, 2012).
Overall, these findings suggest that power does indeed lead to more
selfishness and less responsibility. Together with the conclusion from the
group-dynamics tradition, this suggests that power can indeed corrupt
or at least tends to lead to self-centeredness and a focus on one’s own
goals and opportunities rather than on others’ interests and concerns.
However, early social cognitive research on power, directly addressed
the question of whether power corrupts and provided evidence that this
is not true - at least not across the board. Overbeck and Park (2001)
found that when making decisions about their own and others’ outcomes,
power holders individuated others more than did those low in power.
Hence, when others are on the agenda of those high in power (due
to task requirements), the powerful do direct attention to these others.
Moreover, Galinsky, Gruenfeld, and Magee (2003) predicted in line with
AITP that high-power individuals tend to act more - no matter whether
it is to their own benefit or not. Supporting this hypothesis, they found
that individuals primed with high (compared to low) power not only took
more resources out of a common good for themselves but also contributed
more of their own resources to a common good. Thus, power does not
necessarily lead to more selfish behavior (see also Schmid Mast, Jonas,
The construal of power as opportunity vs. responsibility
77
and Hall, 2009) but it does lead to more focused and less inhibited
behavior, as indicated by SFTP and AITP.
This initial work suggested that merely studying the main effects of
power does not allow us to capture the complexity of the effects of power.
Therefore, recent research took a person-situation interaction approach.
Studies addressing, for example, the moderating effect of individuals’
social-value orientations on the effect of power found that those with
a strong prosocial orientation show more perspective taking, the more
power they have, whereas those low in prosocial orientation think more
selfishly when they are in power (Cote, Kraus, Cheng et al., 2011; for
similar findings, see Blader and Chen, 2012; DeCelles, DeRue, Margolis
et al., 2012). These findings are in line with SFTP: the powerful (but
not those low in power) follow their generic dispositions. However, this
only happens when the situation does not provide strong guidance for
behavior (i.e., under these circumstances personal traits set the agenda
of the powerful). However, if the situation does provide clear guidelines
for behavior, power holders are influenced more than the powerless by
situationally activated goals, to the extent that these apply to the situation
at hand (for evidence, see Guinote et al., 2012).
In sum, many studies have shown that power can induce selfish ten¬
dencies and lowered concern about the thoughts and motives of others,
which seem to result from the independence power provides and the
tendency to uninhibited action. This indicates that some paranoia about
the powerful seems to be justified. More recent evidence, however, has
revealed that the effects of power are not uniform. If individuals are
oriented towards others - whether this is due to chronic tendencies, sit¬
uational activation, or goals - stronger power leads to more prosocial
behavior. This provides the first evidence that the in situ construal of
power deserves more attention. Put differently, how power holders con¬
strue their power in a given situation may explain differential effects on
their behavior to others. The next section first introduces the construal
of power as opportunity versus responsibility. After that, we summarize
research on the question of how the construal of power relates to indi¬
viduals’ striving for power - that is, whether individuals are primarily
attracted to power because they construe it as opportunity (this would in
turn also render selfish behavior after getting into power more likely) .
The construal of power as opportunity or responsibility
and its impact on the attraction of power
The key element in scientists’ definition of power (and, therefore, in the
current working definition mentioned above) is the asymmetrical con¬
trol over one’s own and another person’s outcomes (Fiske and Berdahl,
78
Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl
2006). Researchers have differentiated forms of power along several
dimensions. French and Raven (1959) already suggested that social
power can be based on a variety of the resources that power holders
control (e.g., expertise, rewards). Overbeck and Park (2001) proposed
that the asymmetry in control might imply either that one has power over
others or that one is free from others. While these approaches address
different forms of power, our aim here is to provide insights into the pre¬
conditions and consequences of different construals of the same form of
power.
Making use of the asymmetrical control over others’ outcomes (i.e.,
one’s social power) offers an opportunity to reach one’s own goals, but
it also elicits the responsibility to consider how this impacts upon others’
goals. This has long been acknowledged in research on the power motive
(e.g., Winter and Barenbaum, 1985). For instance, not only does a fund
manager handling billions of euros have the opportunity to increase her
own bonus in case of successful speculations, but she is also responsible
for the investors’ savings and pensions.
We have argued that social power “objectively” provides opportunity
and responsibility at the same time. Flowever, social power does not
necessarily raise perceptions of both implications to the same extent. In
the case of the fund manager making investments, the perception of
power as opportunity to achieve her own goals might predominate. In
contrast, parents’ and teachers’ power over children and pupils tends to
be conceived as responsibility for their children’s and pupils’ well-being.
Moreover, also in (other) professional environments, some power holders
construe their power as responsibility - for instance, when managers
consider their subordinates’ needs, or journal editors take care to handle
fairly the submissions they receive (Chen, Lee-Chai, and Bargh, 2001).
The way in which power is construed might affect the attraction of
power in the first place. When power is primarily construed as opportu¬
nity, the elevated control implied by power can be used to pursue one’s
own goals and interests. In this case, gaining power is expected to ease
the access to desired states. When, by contrast, power is construed as
responsibility, the outcomes of lower-power others become a concern
of the (potentially) powerful person. This might be seen as a potential
additional requirement to be fulfilled, rendering power less attractive.
Therefore, we predicted that power is less attractive when construed
We prefer this terminology of power construed as opportunity versus responsibility over
the labels “personalized” and “socialized” power (e.g., Torelli and Shavit, 2010, 2011),
because of potential confusion with personal and social power (as used by Lammers,
Stoker, and Stapel, 2009), which describe different forms of power.
l
The construal of power as opportunity vs. responsibility
79
as responsibility than when it is construed as opportunity (Sassenberg,
Ellemers, and Scheepers, 2012).
To test this prediction, we conducted several experiments in which
we directly manipulated the construal of power as opportunity versus
responsibility. To this end, we applied a mind-set-priming procedure.
Participants imagined being a member of an organizing committee for a
sports event. In this powerful role, they evaluated certain measures. In
the opportunity-mind-set condition, this evaluation was concerned with
the contribution of these measures to the success of the event, whereas
in the responsibility-mind-set condition it was concerned with ethical
responsibility. The attraction of power was always assessed as part of an
ostensibly unrelated study. In two experiments, participants were asked
to think of a high-power group and a low-power group of their choice
within an organization that both had medium status. Then, they rated
their interest in becoming a member of each of these groups. In line with
the hypothesis, interest in membership in high-power groups was stronger
than interest in membership in low-power groups when power was con¬
strued as opportunity, but not when power was construed as responsibil¬
ity. Thus, the construal of power as responsibility substantially reduced
the impact of the power position of the group on group attraction (i.e., it
reduced the attraction of power) . This finding held when controlling for
individuals’ exchange and communal orientation. This effect is in line
with the research reviewed above, showing that situational cues that acti¬
vate relevant goals can overrule interindividual differences in relational
orientation, while the latter mainly guide behavioral preferences in more
ambiguous situations.
An additional experiment using implicit measures indicated that the
impact of construal of power on the attraction of power holds not only
for group power but also for individual power (e.g., roles). A final exper¬
iment further examined the processes underlying the differential attrac¬
tion of power. Our argument that power construed as opportunity is
more attractive relies on the assumption that it is seen as facilitating goal
achievement. Therefore, we reasoned that, in particular, individuals who
are eager to achieve their goals should be attracted by power construed as
opportunity. Regulatory focus theory (Higgins, 1 997) defines a promo¬
tion focus as a motivational state in which individuals eagerly accomplish
their goals. Therefore, we predicted that the more strongly individuals
focus on promotion, the more they should be attracted by high power
when it is construed as opportunity (vs. responsibility). This prediction
was tested in an experiment designed to replicate the preceding study, and
to assess individuals’ chronic regulatory focus. In line with predictions, in
the power as opportunity condition individuals with a stronger promotion
80
Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl
focus were more attracted to power; this relation was not found in the
power as responsibility condition.
Together, these experiments demonstrate that power construed as
opportunity is more attractive than power construed as responsibility.
This suggests that individuals usually try to attain power due to its poten¬
tial positive impact for the achievement of their own goals. To the extent
that this specific interest in power increases the likelihood that these indi¬
viduals will become powerful, this result would indeed be a reason to
become somewhat paranoid about those in power. But is it also possi¬
ble that individuals in Western cultures construe their power in terms of
responsibility? Under which conditions is this the case, and what are the
behavioral consequences?
When power is construed as opportunity versus
responsibility
The majority of findings summarized above found heightened self-
centeredness among power holders. This suggests that the majority of
the power holders construe their power as opportunity. Research on
power and culture provides some insights into why this pattern of results
predominates in power research. It suggests that the self-centeredness of
those high in power has been found in sociocognitive power research,
at least in part due to the method used (i.e., power priming) and the
social context in which the research has been conducted (Western cul¬
tures). Both aspects render a construal of power as opportunity more
likely. Zhong, Magee, Maddux et al. (2006) have argued that the rela¬
tional values predominant in Western and in East Asian cultures might
have a different impact on the spontaneous construal of power. They
assumed that valuing independence leads to a conceptualization of power
“around influence and entitlement in the West, with behavior assertively
driven towards satisfying oneself. In contrast, East Asians conceptual¬
ize power around responsibility and tend to consider how their behavior
affects others” (Zhong etal., 2006, p. 53), due to the strong endorsement
of interdependence in these cultures. Zhong and colleagues studied the
semantic concepts Westerners and East Asians associated with power and
indeed found that Americans of European descent spontaneously asso¬
ciate power more with opportunity, whereas Asians and Asian-Americans
associate power more with responsibility. This provides the first direct
evidence for the impact of culture on the construal of power and explains
why, in studies conducted with European and American participants and
relying on the spontaneous conceptualization of power, the opportunity
meaning prevails.
The construal of power as opportunity vs. responsibility
81
Relying on similar arguments, Torelli and Shavitt (2010) provided
more direct evidence that relational values associated with cultures influ¬
ence the construal of power. In a series of studies, they found evidence
that individuals endorsing vertical individualism (i.e., individuals striving
to be better than others) see “power as something to be used for advancing
one’s personal agenda and . . . powerful status.” In their studies, vertical
individualism was associated with accepting misuse of power more, with
higher social dominance orientation (i.e., acceptance of hierarchies), and
with more selfish behavior. In contrast, horizontal collectivists (i.e., indi¬
viduals valuing subordination to groups and authorities and engagement
in favor of the in-group) perceive “power as something to be used for
benefiting others” (p. 717). Horizontal collectivism was associated with
more prosocial behavior and the motivation to use one’s power to help
others. These findings suggest that vertical individualists see power hold¬
ers as entitled to focus on their own goals and outcomes. They are thus
more likely to construe power as opportunity. In contrast, according to
horizontal collectivists, power holders need to care about other people’s
concerns and outcomes and, therefore, seem to construe power rather as
responsibility. According to these findings, the powerful should be more
likely to be corrupted (i.e., to act in a selfish way) in vertical individualist
cultures than in horizontal collectivist cultures.
Based on these findings, research priming social power in Western and,
thus, mostly vertical individualist samples (i.e., most of the sociocognitive
power research to date) will produce findings that apply when power is
construed as opportunity (i.e., the common construal of power in these
societies). Torelli and Shavitt (2011) provided evidence for this notion.
They demonstrated that when primed with power, vertical individualists,
but not horizontal collectivists, show more stereotyping (i.e., a sign of
power holders’ self-centeredness that has also been reported in earlier
research on the impact of power; cf. Guinote and Phillips, 2010; Guinote
et al., 2010). Therefore, research priming power in Western cultures - in
other words, activating the predominant spontaneous construal of power
as opportunity - will most likely not reveal what happens if the powerful
focus on others and, thus, construe power as responsibility.
But there is also empirical evidence identifying some of the precondi¬
tions of the construal of power as responsibility in Western cultures. The
research showing that (within Western cultures) the impact of power on
selfish versus prosocial behavior depends on individuals’ traits already
indicates that some members of Western cultures tend to construe power
as responsibility. In line with this notion, Chen et al. (2001) were the
first to demonstrate that the consequences of different types of goals that
individuals associate with power depend on their relational values. To
82 Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl
the extent that individuals had a communal orientation (Clark, Ouel¬
lette, Powell et al, 1987), they were expected to primarily consider the
responsibility associated with power (Chen et al ., 2001). In contrast,
power holders with a strong exchange orientation (Murstein, Wadlin, and
Bond, 1987) were expected to associate power with their own opportuni¬
ties. Indeed, Chen et al. (2001) found that when primed with social power
(vs. a control) individuals with a stronger communal (vs. exchange) orien¬
tation behaved with more social responsibility towards other individuals
and showed a greater concern for social approval. Hence, interindividual
differences alter the construal of power within the same social context.
However, as indicated by the examples of teachers and parents above,
the construal of power might be affected not only by the long-term social
context (i.e., culture and interindividual differences) but also by the more
immediate social context. In our own research, we aimed to provide evi¬
dence for this assumption by focusing on a social-structural variable -
namely, group status (Scheepers, Ellemers, and Sassenberg, 2013). The
standing of their own group, organization, or system - in which some
individuals have high power and others have low power - should affect
the construal of power and hence impact upon the willingness of those
in power to take risks on behalf of their group. That is, we argued that
broader concerns about the status of one’s own group affect the behav¬
ioral opportunities and outcome expectations of individual group mem¬
bers. A group with low status has nothing to lose and only something to
gain. A power holder in this group may thus be willing to try even risky
ways to improve the status of the group. In contrast, in a group with high
status, both the low-power members and the powerful belonging to this
group have a lot to lose (namely, their status) and not so much to gain.
When group goal achievement is at stake, the relatively higher risk of
losing when the group has high (vs. low) status should render a construal
of power as responsibility more likely. Within a business simulation, par¬
ticipants received randomly determined feedback concerning their com¬
pany’s performance after a first round of decisions that indicated either
high or low company status. Subsequently, participants learned that in
the second round they would be in a high power role (CEO) within
their company and make all relevant decisions. Afterwards, participants
rated the responsibility their power implied. Power holders in high-status
groups were more inclined to construe their power as responsibility than
those in low-status groups, as anticipated. Furthermore, they tended to
make less risky (i.e., more prevention-focused) decisions on behalf of the
group. Thus, the construal of power as responsibility does indeed depend
on the social context providing the power.
In sum, the research summarized in this section suggests that, in West¬
ern cultures, the construal of power as opportunity is the default way to
The construal of power as opportunity vs. responsibility
83
perceive power, providing a basis for the paranoia about the powerful.
However, if the social context and the goals made salient therein raise
power holders’ concerns about others and their needs, power is construed
as responsibility also among Westerners.
Conclusion
The present chapter revisited the question “Does power corrupt?” by a
review of three bodies of literature: (1) the work on the impact of power
on selfish and other-oriented behavior, (2) research on the impact of
construal of power on the attraction of power, and (3) research on the
preconditions of the construal of power as opportunity versus responsi¬
bility.
The first body of literature - on the impact of power - suggests that
power leads to selfish rather than to responsible behavior. However, there
is also some evidence that points in the opposite direction. This incon¬
sistency is resolved by recent studies suggesting that when situations are
weak or ambiguous (as stated by Snyder and Ickes, 1985), the impact of
individuals’ chronic relational orientation is accelerated by social power.
However, strong situational cues can raise specific goals or concerns that
overrule these individual tendencies. Thus, the situation in which power
is embedded ultimately determines the impact of power on selfish versus
other-oriented behavior, and this offers scope for regulations aiming to
suppress selfish tendencies among those in power.
The second body of research on the impact of construal of power on
attraction of power adds that attempts to gain access to power may be pri¬
marily driven by the opportunities it seems to provide. This is likely to be
a relevant motive especially for those who are eager to achieve their goals,
and this may be a cause for paranoia about the powerful. If we assume that
those who are especially interested in gaining access to power are more
likely to end up having it, power holders are likely to use the opportu¬
nities thus gained primarily to advance their own interests. Our research
on construal of power offers hope that there is scope to curb such per¬
nicious effects. That is, emphasizing the responsibilities that come with
power might less easily attract individuals to such positions in the first
place, but is more likely to attract them for socially responsible rather
than selfish reasons. This shows the crucial importance of considering -
and if necessary adapting - individuals’ construal of power towards
responsibility rather than only seeing it as opportunity.
The third body of research on the role of social context in shaping
the construal of power found that in Western/vertical individualist cul¬
tures and among exchange-oriented individuals, power is spontaneously
construed as opportunity, while, in East-Asian/horizontal collectivist
84
Kai Sassenberg, Naomi Ellemers, Daan Scheepers, and Annika Scholl
cultures and among communal-oriented individuals, power is mostly
construed spontaneously as responsibility. This also explains why many
studies using power priming (i.e., spontaneous power construal) in West¬
ern samples find that power raises selfish behavior. Future research
should therefore carefully consider whether this type of work offers an
adequate image of how power is actually construed in the context to
which the findings are to be applied. To put it more simply: also in West¬
ern cultures, there are specific domains, such as learning and education,
where power is likely to be construed in terms of responsibility rather
than opportunity. Therefore, the results from priming research relying
on spontaneous construals of power as opportunity do not necessarily
inform conclusions about the use of power in these contexts. To address
these potential limitations, future research should not only manipulate
the experience of power but also consider the construal of power within
a situation. Our own studies provide initial evidence that earlier findings
on the effects of power actually speak to power construed as opportunity,
but that different effects are obtained if power is construed as responsi¬
bility (De Wit, Scheepers, Ellemers et al., 20 12) .This illustrates another
limitation of prior research revealed in this review - namely, that research
so far has barely assessed directly the construal of power (for exceptions,
see Scheepers et al., 2013; Zhong et al., 2006). Future research might
consider doing so and thereby gain insights into the understanding of the
mechanisms underlying the impact of power on selfish and responsible
behavior.
And after all that - does power really corrupt? We have seen that
selfish behavior can be raised by power. However, this is only the case
if the context suggests that it is appropriate to apply power in selfish
interests or if an individual obtaining power has such selfish motives.
Power does indeed strengthen these motives, and selfish action becomes
more likely. We have also concluded that horizontal individualists are
likely to construe power as opportunity, and this is what makes power
seem attractive in the first place. All in all, this suggests that, ultimately,
the corrupt go for power rather than that power corrupts.
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II
Politics
6
Never trust a politician? Collective distrust,
relational accountability, and voter response
Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante
Voters are good at detecting phonies. A google search for “fake” and
the name of a losing American presidential candidate the day after the
election yielded cynical comments about his fake tan, his staged charity,
his Active heritage, his fraudulent polls, and his rigged voting machines.
The winner did little better, but, on average, polled as more motivated to
serve the interests of middle-class voters. The candidate-voter dynamic
depends on politicians being trusted not to put their own self-interest
(gaining and keeping power) over that of the voters who elect them. We
argue here that trust is a critical - if not the critical - judgment that voters
make.
Every few years, voters evaluate candidates, and political leaders result.
Much ink, many minutes, and even more bytes analyze elections both
formally (political science) and informally (public media) . But elections
are about people, and social psychologists know a lot about people. We
come to this project as social psychologists interested in how people make
sense of individuals as group members and groups as society members.
As we will show, politicians are acknowledged to be powerful, but are
disliked and distrusted around the world.
We argue that the politician-versus-citizen distrust depends on a failure
of relational accountability, citizens’ lacking trust in politicians’ shared
intentions. Politicians have a goal to get and maintain power, and voters
have a goal to elect politicians who will represent their interests and
adopt competent policies. Knowing for sure only that a candidate wants
to win power, voters must infer whether the candidate genuinely cares
about anything else, and, if so, represents their long-term shared interests.
Apparently most politicians consistently fail on this dimension.
We will first present background on one model to analyze political
person perception, based on fundamental dimensions of social cognition,
and then present evidence for the role of affect that results from these
perceptions and determines people’s vote. We close with some comments
about relational accountability.
91
92
Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante
Fundamental dimensions of social cognition
Foreshadows
In 1 946, Solomon Asch asked students about two different people, both
described as competent ( intelligent , skillful, industrious, determined, practi¬
cal, cautious ), but one as warm and the other as cold. Those two central
warm-cold traits entirely determined the meaning of the competence-
related traits in the overall impression. In this demonstration, Asch
showed that warmth and competence are two critical dimensions of
impression formation. Open-ended descriptions of the warm and cold
person indicate that this central dimension includes being trustworthy:
generous, good-natured, wise, humane, and altruistic.
Years later, a more systematic study of trait adjectives in impressions
used multidimensional scaling of representative trait adjectives to identify
the underlying dimensions: social good-bad and intellectual good-bad
(Rosenberg, Nelson, and Vivekananthan, 1968). The social dimension
anchored on warm, sociable, good-natured, sincere, trustworthy, honest,
and their opposites; the intellectual dimension anchored on skillful, per¬
sistent, industrious, scientific, and their opposites. Around the same time
period, small-groups research identified leaders as being either social or
task oriented (Bales and Slater, 1955), again affirming these two similar
dimensions.
Candidates
Into this context came our early project on political person perception.
At the time, political behavior research was focused on party identifica¬
tion as predicting American voters’ choices. Some of us, meddling social
psychologists (Abelson, Kinder, Peters et al., 1982), saw election cam¬
paigns as a case of mass person perception, millions of voters all forming
impressions of the same few candidates. Would the same principles apply?
Would traits sort on these different dimensions? And what would be their
consequences for feelings and behavior?
In one study, voters rated the current presidential candidates (Carter,
Ford, Edward Kennedy, Reagan) on sixteen traits (eight positive, eight
negative): courageous, warm, honest, smart, humble, knowledgeable,
open-minded, inspiring, immoral, too political, selfish, weak, reckless,
unstable, power-hungry, and prejudiced. In another, they rated Carter,
Edward Kennedy, Reagan, Connally, Baker, and George H. W. Bush
on a subset of six traits and trait-like behaviors: moral, dishonest, weak,
knowledgeable, power-hungry, inspiring, solve our economic problems.
Never trust a politician?
93
provide strong leadership, and develop good relations with other coun¬
tries. In a separate analysis, we found these traits to sort on a competence
factor and an integrity factor (Kinder and Fiske, 1986) related to Rosen¬
berg et al.’s two factors. Traits - competence and warmth together -
predicted voting behavior even controlling for issue stands.
Since that time, similar trait dimensions have appeared in citizens
describing the Polish president and qualities missing in politicians in gen¬
eral (Wojciszke and Klusek, 1996), related to Wojciszke’s broader model
of morality (trustworthiness) and competence in person perception. Sim¬
ilar dimensions described a typical US congressman before and after a
scandal (Funk, 1996), both American and Italian presidents (Caprara
and Zimbardo, 2004), and US presidents (Popkin, 2012).
Groups in society
Theories often stem from multiple sources, of which their developer is
only half-conscious. Fifteen years after participating in the candidate-
perception studies, Fiske developed a model of ambivalent sexism with
Peter Glick (e.g., Glick and Fiske, 1996), positing hostile and subjectively
benevolent biases towards different kinds of women. In retrospect, hostile
sexism targets were stereotypically competent but cold women (female
professionals), whereas benevolent sexism targets were stereotypically
warm but incompetent women (housewives). Implicit in this ambiva¬
lence, then, is a trade-off between the two fundamental dimensions.
Soon after, Fiske (1998) was searching for a way to systematize a
more general discussion of out-groups in society, and the nice-but-
dumb versus smart-but-cold distinction seemed to fit many groups. This
stereotype-content model contradicted the prevailing notion that out¬
groups are stereotyped as either entirely good or entirely bad. Soon,
studies suggested that people do sort all kinds of societal groups along
the two warmth and competence dimensions (Fiske, Cuddy, Glick et al. ,
2002).
First, members of society ask themselves, does this group (e.g., new
immigrants) intend good or ill to me and my group? If they have good
intentions, they are warm and trustworthy; otherwise, exploitative and
untrustworthy. Their intentions are inferred from their perceived coop¬
erative or competitive stance, an understanding of social structure open
to political framing and misperception, of course.
Second, having an impression of the group’s intentions, people seek
to know whether the group can enact them - namely, their apparent
competence. Competence is inferred from perceived status (economic
success, prestige).
94
Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante
This warmth x competence space accommodates various cultures’
groups, all over the world (Cuddy, Fiske, Kwan et al., 2009; Durante,
Fiske, Kervyn et al., 2013; see Figures 6. 1-6.6). Related frameworks
exist, but this one builds most explicitly on prior person-perception work,
applied to societal groups (Cuddy et al., 2008; Fiske et al., 2007).
Most relevant here is the fact that politicians appear in several coun¬
tries’ listing of groups that matter to their society. How are politicians
viewed, and what does this mean for reactions to them?
Politicians in the warmth by competence space
In this framework for examining social groups, some international sam¬
ples rate politicians as part of a competent-but-cold cluster (with rich
people, for German-Swiss and French-Swiss), others rate them in an
incompetent-and-cold cluster (with disreputable scum, in Italy, India,
Mexico), and some rate them as low warmth but in-between compe¬
tence (Portugal). In all cases, politicians as a group are rated as not
warm and sincere, not-us.
Closer examination led us to notice the relationship between our data
and the Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI), in which 0 means that
a country is perceived as highly corrupt and 10 means that a country
is perceived as very clean. In Switzerland, politicians are perceived as
competent but cold and CPI = 8.8. In Portugal, where politicians are
perceived as of middling competence, CPI = 6.1. In Mexico, India, and
Italy, politicians are low on competence, and CPI = 3.0, 3.1, and 3.9,
respectively. So, at least concerning politicians, perceptions of compe¬
tence seem related to perceptions of corruption, while warmth/trust are
not (conversely to what one might expect, but all politicians score low on
that dimension, so it has no variance) (see Chirumbolo and Leone, this
volume) .
A detailed look conveys some specific impressions. In the French-
Swiss sample (Figure 6.1), politicians appear alongside competent-but-
cold rich people, Jews, Muslims, immigrants, young people, and unem¬
ployed people. Politicians emphatically do not share the in-group space
with Swiss people in general, Italian-Swiss, French-Swiss, German-
Swiss, the middle class, students, generic men and women, Protestants,
Catholics, or even atheists. Politicians, though definitely not trusted, are
not incompetent, a space reserved for drug addicts, Gypsies, and asylum
seekers.
For the German-Swiss sample (Figure 6.2), politicians appear along¬
side rich people and managers, but outside the warmer in-group cluster,
Never trust a politician?
95
high
low Competence high
Figure 6.1 French-Swiss sample. Politicians appear in the dashed
ellipse, competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster centers.
high
low Competence high
Figure 6.2 German-Swiss sample. Politicians appear in the dashed
ellipse, competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster centers.
96
Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante
Figure 6.3 Italian sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse, both
incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers.
which contains Swiss people in general, German-Swiss, French-Swiss,
students, academics, generic men and women, the middle class, and
even gays. The worst out-groups, drug addicts, the unemployed, Mus¬
lims, and rightists, are more incompetent than politicians but just as low
on warmth; in other words, politicians are just as mistrusted as society’s
outcasts. In both Swiss samples, then, politicians appear with rich people
and entrepreneurial groups, thought to be competent, but not trusted as
on “our side.”
Italian politicians also are mistrusted, and they do locate among the
worst out-groups, alongside outcasts, immigrants, poor, and unem¬
ployed. But they are not far from the more competent but still mistrusted
crooks and Mafiosi (Figure 6.3).
Likewise, in India, politicians are the lowest of the low, below even
the unemployed, the uneducated, day laborers, and the scheduled castes
(formerly Untouchables). No other groups come even close to such neg¬
ative reactions (Figure 6.4).
Similarly, Mexican politicians seem no better than their culture’s least
competent and trustworthy: pampered prep-school “fresas” (strawber¬
ries) and gay men (Figure 6.5). All three of these cultures view politicians
with distrust, specifically contempt, but evidently with somewhat differ¬
ent cultural meanings.
Never trust a politician?
97
high
low
low Competence high
Figure 6.4 Indian sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse, both
incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers. FC: Forward Caste
(not eligible for positive discrimination or other related government
benefits); daily wager: day laborer; IT: information technology; SC/ST:
Scheduled Caste or Scheduled Tribe, formerly known as “Untouch¬
ables,” now eligible for positive-discrimination quotas.
Figure 6.5 Mexican sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse,
both incompetent and cold. Stars indicate cluster centers.
98 Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante
Figure 6.6 Portuguese sample. Politicians appear in the dashed ellipse,
slightly competent but cold. Stars indicate cluster centers.
The remaining country where respondents had nominated politicians
as a culturally significant group was Portugal (Figure 6.6), where the
politician image falls between these least-competent and most-competent
images, while sharing the universal distrust and perceived low warmth.
Portuguese politicians seem slightly more competent than Gypsies, poor
people, immigrants, and Indians. They locate in the same cluster as
rich people and entrepreneurial people (Chinese people, Eastern people,
Black people), as well as gays and “aunties” (rich relatives, women from
fancy neighborhoods who are not necessarily rich but are very snobbish) .
None of these groups are trusted, and none of them are as competent as
the cultural in-groups (the middle class, Whites, Catholics, generic men
and women) .
So in these varied cultures around the globe, each map of society
places politicians squarely in the low-trust or low-warmth half of the
space, sometimes more competent and sometimes less, but never the
societal in-group. Whatever happened to “our leaders”?
Affect matters
Part of the story appears in our emotional reactions to politicians. Next
we examine the role of emotion in reaction to the universally distrusted
politicians. As we will see, emotion matters because it predicts political
behavior.
Never trust a politician?
99
Warmth, competence, emotions, and behavior
The stereotype-content model predicts that stereotypes provoke emotion.
By this model and evidence from a variety of social groups (e.g.. Cuddy
et al., 2009; Fiske et al., 2002), the societal in-group part of the space
(high warmth, high competence) evokes pride and admiration. Politicians
as a group thus are not a source of pride.
Groups seen as well intentioned but incompetent (e.g., disabled or
older people) evoke pity, but politicians as a group are nowhere seen as
well intentioned. So pity seems unlikely.
Instead, they land in the untrustworthy half of the space, which evokes
resentment and anger, overall. Specifically, ill-intentioned groups elicit
disgust and contempt if they are low status and allegedly incompe¬
tent: poor people, drug addicts, the homeless, and immigrants, in many
places - and politicians in Italy, Mexico, India, and maybe Portugal.
Other ill-meaning groups elicit envy and jealousy if they are high status
and allegedly competent: rich and entrepreneurial people, in many places
- and politicians in German and French Switzerland. Neither disgust nor
envy is a good set of emotions.
Both emotions directed at distrusted groups (disgust, envy) predict
active harm, attacking, and fighting - not a good prognosis for politicians.
The disgusting ones would also elicit passive neglect, whereas the envied
ones would elicit passive association (Cuddy, Fiske, and Glick, 2007).
Neither sounds like a ringing endorsement for re-election. Gaining trust,
then, would seem to be a candidate’s biggest task.
Importance of affect for politicians
Emotion-related reactions such as trust have a history in political psychol¬
ogy. Going back to the Abelson et al. (1982) political-person-perception
project, the trait impressions of candidates did predict voting preference,
but affects were even stronger predictors. Affects, positive and nega¬
tive separately, together predicted overall candidate evaluations and vote
intentions, adding significant variance beyond trait impressions and party
identification.
Participants in both studies were asked a question about each candidate
(four in Study 1, six in Study 2): Has [candidate], “because of the kind of
person he is or because of something he has done, ever made you feel [in
Study 2] afraid? angry? disgusted? uneasy? hopeful? proud? sympathetic?”
(Study 1 asked also about disliking; being frustrated, sad, or happy; and
liking, but these were later dropped.) The most striking initial finding
came from the ten separate factor analyses (one for each candidate).
100
Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante
In every case, positive and negative affects loaded on independent factors.
Over time, the extent to which a candidate has made a voter hopeful,
proud, and sympathetic is unrelated to how much the candidate has also
made that voter feel afraid, angry, disgusted, and uneasy. The trick for
a successful candidate, then, is to make voters feel positive emotions,
and not to feel negative ones. The independence of positive and negative
affect turns out to be common in attitudes (Cacioppo and Berntson,
1994) and in mood (Watson and Tellegen, 1985).
In the 2008 Obama-McCain election campaign, hope, pride, and fear
clearly mattered (Finn and Glaser, 2010). When in-depth histories are
written, emotions will likely be shown for the 2012 US election as well.
Certainly, between the variously studied elections, affect has mattered
separately and at least as much as trait impressions (to sort decided
and undecided voters’ preferences in a Texas gubernatorial race: Christ,
1985; to predict US presidential elections in 1972, 1976, 1980, and
1984: Granberg and Brown, 1989; student voters’ reactions to national
political figures: Jones and Iacobucci, 1989; and approval of Presidents
Carter and Reagan: Ragsdale, 1991).
The primacy of affect in predicting reaction to politicians echoes affec¬
tive primacy in other domains, such as racial stereotypes and emotional
prejudices predicting racial discrimination (Talaska, Fiske, and Chaiken,
2008) and the importance of affect in intergroup reactions more generally
(Mackie and Smith, 1998). But is this a good idea for democracy?
Role of emotions in decisions
Emotional decisions are not necessarily irrational. In a related domain,
automatically activated attitudes are adaptive, helping people to decide
efficiently what to approach and what to avoid (Fazio, Sanbonmatsu,
Powell et al. , 1986). In the 1984 US presidential race between Reagan and
Mondale, attitude accessibility was the crucial mechanism, mediating the
relationship between attitudes and perceptions of debate performance, as
well as between attitudes and voting (Fazio and Williams, 1986). Easily
activated evaluations - and doubtless emotions - help voters to interpret
and act effectively.
Beyond attitudes, affect matters much of the time. Emotion-based
responses are often adaptive (Pham, 2007); integral emotions (evoked
by a target) indicate its value, promoting responses that are efficient,
consistent, definitive, present-focused, magnitude-insensitive, and rela¬
tivistic. Emotion-based decisions provide, for better or worse, a secure
foundation. Emotional reactions to a shared target - as in political cam¬
paigns - elicit high consensus across people and high consistency over
Never trust a politician?
101
time. Because emotions also regulate moral and prosocial behavior, they
are arguably adaptive, at least sometimes. According to Bou Zeineddine
and Pratto (this volume), mistrust in powerful others, particularly those
who constrain others’ options and means of attaining and maintaining
well-being, or who use their power to harm other people, can be adaptive.
On the plus side, emotions seem to promote social and moral behavior
in organizations as well. For example, feeling good at work increases
participation and organizational citizenship (George and Brief, 1992).
Political engagement likewise entails not only political expertise but also
participation and strong feelings (Miller, 2011). The role of emotion in
political decision-making is even broader, of course (Westen, 2007).
To be sure, individuals differ in how much they respond affectively
versus cognitively (Huskinson and Haddock, 2004). Attitudes, as well
as person impressions, also vary in their affective versus cognitive basis,
accordingly being open to persuasion by that respective route (Edwards,
1990; Edwards and von Hippel, 1995). Transitory campaign contexts
(e.g., balloons) but also candidates themselves vary in their ability to sig¬
nal emotions (Isbell and Ottati, 2002). President Reagan was a master at
sending emotions and evoking these emotions in his audience (McHugo,
Lanzetta, Sullivan et aL, 1985). Voters’ individual expertise and motiva¬
tion moderate how readily they respond to these emotional cues (Isbell
and Wyer, 1999; Ottati and Isbell, 1996). So accessible affect admittedly
varies across voters, candidates, and issues.
Recap
If politicians as a group are distrusted, evoking resentment and anger,
sometimes contempt and sometimes envy, then overcoming those nega¬
tive emotions must concern any political candidate who wants to become
a political leader. We suggest that because politicians apparently pursue
their own interests, not “we the people’s,” the voters view them as typi¬
cally competitive, exploitative, and therefore untrustworthy.
Our analyses fit some others here: Sassenberg, Ellemers, Scheepers,
and Scholl (this volume) argue that power provides an opportunity to
reach one’s own goals. In their chapter they address the question “What
is the role of the construal of power as opportunity and responsibility
in the striving for power?” Andeweg (this volume) holds that distrust is
high in almost every country where it was measured. However, Smith and
Overbeck (this volume) propose that, contrary to popular belief, people
assume the best of powerful individuals: Power holders are seen as more
moral than the powerless. Ours and related hypotheses suggest research
yet to be done.
102
Susan T. Fiske and Federica Durante
Relational accountability
We know what politicians want: By definition, as a job requirement, they
want power, control over resources to advance their goals. To get there,
they have to persuade us, the voters, at least temporarily, that they share
our goals. They seem to know that the middle class are society’s ideal,
so they often claim those values. They typically avoid advocating support
for people without a fixed address, who are resented and do not vote
(homeless people, undocumented immigrants, drug addicts), and they
typically avoid advocating support for people with too many addresses,
who are also resented (rich people, outsider entrepreneurs).
The problem for us as voters is that we know the politicians’ goal is
to win our vote by appearing to be trustworthy and on our side, but
once they have what they want (our vote), they may leave us. In close-
relationship terms, one might see this strategy as seduce-and-abandon.
In a confidence game, it would be scam-and-scram. Even if we assume
for a moment that they do genuinely share our goals, how do they show
this, given that other candidates pretend the same? Trustworthiness is
difficult to prove, as it requires unwavering loyalty over time, with even
one betrayal destroying trust.
What is needed is political trust stemming from relational accountabil¬
ity, specific political leaders demonstrating specific loyalty to us and cred¬
ibly explaining their lapses. One way politicians can win trust is exactly
by demonstrating consistency over time to their constituents. Indeed,
we trust our own specific, local representatives more than politicians
in general (Sears, 1983, Studies 8-11, Table 4). We know more about
them, perhaps having more face-to-face interactions. Certainly, we know
their faces, backgrounds, and personalities better than we do the generic
politician. This gives us (and the particular politicians) the opportunity
to moderate our extreme distrust of them.
The principle of worthy intentions fits other political/social entities. For
example, corporations are treated as intentional agents with self-serving
or public-serving goals (Kervyn, Fiske, and Malone, 2012). They win or
lose customer loyalty accordingly. Sellers, beware!
Conclusion
Our take on the problem of politicians, power, and paranoia is to argue
that in their competition for power, politicians forfeit voters’ trust. Voters
are not paranoid to distrust politicians, once one analyzes the respective
goals of politicians and voters. What is more, we are at their mercy
more than they at ours; the dependence is asymmetrical. In equal-power
Never trust a politician?
103
relationships, trust is adaptive, but in asymmetrical ones, especially those
with such high stakes for the common welfare, trust must be earned. Our
collective good sense tells us not to trust them until proven not guilty.
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7
Political distrust: the seed and fruit
of popular empowerment
Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto
Most people in the world today can expect to eat better, learn more,
and live longer than any of their known ancestors. Yet, for many, espe¬
cially for members of disadvantaged groups and states, trust in domestic
political leadership and institutions is low. This irony - that greater mate¬
rial empowerment is accompanied by greater distrust - can be explained
by a nuanced understanding of power, the psychology of trust, and the
sociopolitical dynamics of contemporary societies.
This chapter describes the social psychology of people’s power situ¬
ations and of their responses to those situations, specifically in relation
to standards for, and orientations towards, governments. In doing so,
we use a different theoretical conception of power than other scholars
often use. In particular, we insist that dominance and outcome con¬
trol - or power over - are insufficient conceptions of power because they
disregard both relational and material resources that are supplementary
to whatever influence an agent wields over another. Further, framing
power simply as power over another neglects the needs, motivations, and
agency of those in lower-power situations or positions. Instead, we argue
that the relations of people with their social ecology are fundamentally
entangled in the concept of power, which we view as the combination
of the psychological, relational, and material affordances and constraints
that characterize people’s lives. And if power is the set of affordances and
constraints a social agent’s existence is shaped by, then trust is one impor¬
tant gauge of the balance of affordances and constraints for a social agent
versus another’s in the context of their direct and indirect social inter¬
actions. Because people do engage in social comparison processes and
learn vicariously about who is trustworthy, several social-psychological
processes inform how trust or distrust is produced.
We explicate these ideas as follows. First, we offer our reconsideration
of power and trust, and say how our theoretical perspective pertains to
We would like to acknowledge the valuable input of the editors and the following colleagues
on an earlier draft of this chapter: Joseph de Rivera, Jessica LaCroix, I-Ching Lee, James H.
Liu, Davide Morselli, Pippa Norris, Andrew L. Stewart, and Johanna R. Vollhardt. This
research is based in part on the master’s thesis of the first author.
106
Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment
107
political distrust in particular. We explain why we expect political distrust
to be higher among people in disadvantaged situations compared to their
past and to people in advantaged situations, particularly those histori¬
cally advantaged. Second, we argue that objective empowerment across
groups and countries leads to changes in political cultures and aspira¬
tions. This then begets political distrust, which in turn catalyzes both
resistance among the disadvantaged and reform among the advantaged.
Third, we show how these changes vary in their magnitude and effects,
in accordance with the institutional and elite behavioral constraints and
norms prevalent across different kinds of government. Finally, we dis¬
cuss what political distrust means for popular empowerment and the
democratic ideal, and offer suggestions regarding further research and
theory.
Our analysis of power begins simply with the recognition that all peo¬
ple have survival needs. To take action to meet survival needs, people
must sense what they need, and what the environment affords, based on
both past and present experiences and situations. They must rely on the
aspects of the environment within their reach, as well as on their own
capabilities, to get what they need to live. Power and trust both have
fundamentally to do with these processes.
Complexities enter our analysis when we recognize that environments
afford the meeting of needs differentially to different persons and groups.
Confronted with needs and with inequality in the ease of meeting needs,
people try not only to meet their needs but also to adapt to or change
their social, economic, and political environment so that they can do so.
Thus, power and trust relations are dynamic.
Power-basis theory defines power as the potential that social agents
have to fulfill their basic needs and to enable or obstruct the fulfillment
of others’ needs (Pratto, Lee, Tan et al., 201 1). In other words, the ease
with which the agent’s needs can be met or that others’ need fulfillment
can be influenced, stemming jointly from the local environment and
one’s capacities, indicates how empowered the agent is. This conception
of power focuses on empowerment and disempowerment as fluid in time,
rather than as power over another. This definition of empowerment does
not mean activation of effective self-striving or of devolution or distribu¬
tion of influence only, but also incorporates the empowerment inherent
in authoritarian benevolence and material provenance because power is
due to the relation of need to social ecology.
Different kinds of power address different specific survival needs. As
such, our conception of power includes material resources such as wealth
and control over force, and relational utilities such as social belonging
and legitimacy. Indeed, power-basis theory holds that these kinds of
108
Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto
power are interlinked and fungible (Pratto et al., 2011). For example,
wealth, a “material” resource, is an important determinant of social and
political status and influence (e.g.. Gill and Law, 1993). And contrary
to the assumption that certain needs are less survival oriented and thus
less basic in the hierarchy of needs, the relationship is reciprocal. As a
case in point, and consistent with our social-ecological analysis, social
and political status can facilitate or hinder accumulations of wealth (e.g.,
Lucero, 2008). Through this lens, one can see that material and relational
types of power are strictly entangled, with both serving both biological
imperatives and higher-purpose goals. After all, people must access both
material and relational resources through other people. Human beings
are not self-sustaining, self-fertilizing producer organisms like the plants.
We humans are consumers and social animals, and, as such, the social
properties and positions of human agents are just as fundamental to
meeting survival needs as the availability of resources is (e.g., Lemieux
and Pratto, 2003). In fact, in locations where material abundance is
highest, there is often the most necessity for relational types of power, as
many victims of colonization and exploitation could testify.
Trust is the gauge of how much another agent will not obstruct, or
will facilitate or enable one’s needs to be met, or has done so in the
past; distrust indicates that the other will hinder or prevent need fulfill¬
ment or increase neediness. In other words, trust/distrust is an integrative
evaluation of the agent’s needs, the environment’s affordances of those
needs, and the combination of the power and benevolence of other social
agents. We would like to emphasize the integrative part of this defini¬
tion. Power asymmetry between agents alone is an insufficient basis for
distrust. Power asymmetry that does not affect salient need-fulfillment
efforts, or that is used or perceived benevolently for instrumental or
normative reasons, may not affect or may even increase political trust
(e.g., in South Korea; Liu and Liu, 2003).
Accuracy in (dis)trust is especially important for those low in power
because their limited means imply that they may lack the surplus that
would prevent a disaster from resulting should they misjudge where to
invest their energies, time, and hopes. As such, trust in others is sensi¬
tive to vulnerability and uncertainty (e.g., Rousseau, Sitkin, Burt et al .,
1998). Vulnerability, or the degree of difficulty in meeting one’s needs,
depends partly on one’s environment. One’s sense of vulnerability to
others stems from the interaction between interdependence and three
types of social risk: risk of noncooperation loss (overcautiousness), risk
of standing inequality, or risk of betrayal (Hong and Bohnet, 2007). One
who is dependent is more vulnerable if he or she could be excluded from
cooperative arrangements, lives in an unequal environment, or could
be betrayed. Dependency is one expression of power asymmetry; power
Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment
109
being fungible, those who are needy in one way may be more likely to be
needy in many ways, and thus would be expected to be more dependent
on others. Power asymmetry also introduces uncertainty, and in extreme
cases asymmetry makes trust impossible (Farrell, 2004). Dependency
and uncertainty can characterize interpersonal power asymmetry, but
they are also nested in the group position in an intergroup power envi¬
ronment. Disadvantaged people and groups are more dependent, and
thus more vulnerable. They are also more uncertain of the credibility of
powerful agents’ commitments. Both vulnerability and uncertainty thus
make it less likely for disadvantaged people and groups to trust such
agents, as we shall show.
Malevolent power asymmetries produce greater distrust among disad¬
vantaged people in other ways. First, more powerful people have more
opportunity to disempower others by excluding them from cooperative
arrangements, by maintaining or increasing inequality or hierarchy, and
by betrayal. Such actions are likely to be interpreted as hostile to the
disadvantaged. Thus, disadvantaged people have both objective and sub¬
jective vulnerability. Second, the potential for the use of power asym¬
metry to empower or disempower others gives trust a moral character.
Hence, trust is influenced by perceived beneficence or morality (Baner-
jee, Bowie, and Pavone, 2006). Research has shown that in asymmetrical
relationships, low social status, a concomitant of low power and an effect
of past disempowerment, makes attributions of benevolent intentions,
and consequently trust, less likely (Lount and Pettit, 2011). However,
this may not be the case in situations where the benevolence of authority
is normatively assumed or expected (e.g., Liu and Liu, 2003). Third,
in some political-cultural milieux, power distance can curtail familiarity,
identification, and emotional linkage between trustor and trustee (Lewis
and Weigert, 1985) - factors that inform trustors’ perceptions of and
expectations of the risk and uncertainty in trustees’ motivations. Finally,
trust is contingent on empowerment for both the advantaged and disad¬
vantaged, but control over power is more internal for the advantaged. For
the disadvantaged, trust is more contingent on the motivations, actions,
and expectations of others and hence more uncertain. In multiple ways,
then, without benevolent authorities, power asymmetry undermines trust
in authority for the disadvantaged.
Political distrust
We now address trust in asymmetric power relations between the citizens
and ruling political elites of managed democracies. Note that our defini¬
tion of democracy is different from either the “shallow” definition as a
110
Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto
system of electoral selection of rulers (managers), or the “deep” defini¬
tion, which is more often used in democratization literature, as electoral
systems with certain levels of guaranteed freedoms or rights (e.g., Norris,
2011). In our view, the vast majority of contemporary governments are
variants of managerial democratic systems. We consider them democratic
because these governments are, to varying degrees, sensitive and respon¬
sive to citizens’ needs and demands, in whatever form those demands
may be expressed (elections, protests, petitions, online activism, etc.).
In this sense, democracy is not a form of government, but a gradient
of sensitivity to popular influence and voice. In our view, constituents
are able to exercise at least some influence in all but the most oppres¬
sive of countries (e.g., Saudi Arabia, an absolute monarchy, reformed
its morality police, the mutawwa, in response to public outcry) . Modern
governments are managerial as well as democratic. That is, in none of
the internationally recognized states do the people actually participate
directly in the legislation and execution of daily governance. Rather, they
provide input on the selection or policies of the managers.
This specification of modern governments as managed democracies is
important because it allows one to see that, under them, nonelite cit¬
izens have little alternative but implicitly or explicitly to accede some
power, and authorities retain the ability to act in ways that are contrary
to citizens’ interests. Self-interest therefore obliges citizens to evaluate
authorities’ trustworthiness according to how well their political man¬
agers share their ideals and can and do enact them. As we will discuss
later, there are many cases in which these managers fail to uphold this
basis for trust. Simply trusting institutional constraints such as laws to
induce authorities to provide desired treatment and outcomes may be
insufficient (Pettit, 1998). Public-choice theory has made such points
repeatedly and convincingly in the field of political economy (for an
overview, see Buchanan, 2003).
We define political (dis)trust as constituents’ sense of how much gov¬
ernments serve to fulfill (or deny them) the needs those agencies are
expected to enable. In other words, people’s political trust or distrust
stems from perceptions of the degree to which political agencies will
empower or disempower them. Given our conception of power as the
joint consequence of people’s capacities and their environments, govern¬
ments and political elites may disempower people by preventing them
from accessing, developing, or using their own capacities or the capaci¬
ties of the state, as by disrupting community-building or curtailing access
to resources, security, or other necessities. Political trust is thus at least in
part a function of the degree of power asymmetry between constituents
and elites, and the historical trajectory of that power asymmetry. That
Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment
111
is, the amount of political trust constituents have depends on their past
experience, present perception, and future expectation that governments
reliably use their superior power competently and faithfully to empower
their constituents, even when opportunity and incentive exist for author¬
ities to do otherwise (see also Rai and Fiske, 2011).
Obviously, disadvantaged people and groups face greater power asym¬
metry vis-a-vis domestic and foreign governments than do privileged
people or groups. In addition, insofar as disadvantaged people see their
disadvantage as a failure of government or other dominant agents to
empower them or as deliberate disempowerment, they are less likely to
expect benevolent treatment, and may interpret it with suspicion if it
does occur. This has been a factor, for example, in the failure of many
development programs (Banerjee and Duflo, 2011).
We now explore how power dynamics can produce popular distrust in
governments, especially among the disadvantaged. We assume, based on
previous findings regarding the similarity of intra- and intergroup hier¬
archies, and their interlinkage, that the processes we describe will apply
to both subordinate groups within states and to interstate relationships
within the global hierarchy (e.g., Pratto, Sidanius, Bou Zeineddine et al.,
2013; Sidanius and Pratto, 1999).
In support of our theoretical reasoning, we present evidence that
although inequality is increasing in some circumstances, the entire power
hierarchy has shifted upwards, such that even many subordinated groups
are sufficiently empowered, in absolute terms, to advocate a converging
ideal of empowering participatory governance in ways they previously
could not. We then assess how well governments meet this heightened
popular standard. We conclude that the combination of the empower¬
ment of the lower rungs of many states’ social hierarchies and the nor¬
malization of the ideals of empowerment by government, and the overall
failure of governments to meet this demand, produce a measure of dis¬
trust in authority, particularly among the disadvantaged. Disadvantaged
people and groups, given their current and past experiences, may have
very good reasons to distrust authority. It would be a mistake to pathol-
ogize distrust without taking such considerations into account. What the
effects of this distrust are on democracy and social progress overall is a
more difficult question than one might expect.
Putting people, government, and political distrust
in context
Conditions for today’s citizens differ from the past in several ways all
over the world. First, economic conditions have improved for very many
112
Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto
people across the world. Since the 1970s and 1980s, $2/day poverty rates
have plummeted from 44% to 18% (Sala-i-Martin, 2002). Economies
are much less agricultural on average, and occupational specialization
is increasing (Inglehart, 1997). Females increasingly acquire paid labor,
concomitant with attitudinal shifts towards gender equity the world over
(Seguino, 2007). Second, primary and secondary education levels have
risen and gender gaps are closing (Bloom, 2006). Higher education is
also increasing, particularly in poor, developing countries experiencing
economic growth (British Council, 2012). Third, communications are
more open and available (Norris and Inglehart, 2009). Fourth, both
interstate and intrastate violence has fallen substantially in the past 20
years (Institute for Economics and Peace, 2012). Fifth, over the past
40 years there has been a positive trend in the levels of political rights
and in the number of countries electing their governments. For example,
Freedom House (2012) reports that from 1989 to 2012, the percentage
of countries that can be classified as electoral democracies has increased
from 41 % to 60%, and the percentage of countries categorized as “partly
free” or “free” by their political rights and civil liberties index has risen
from 54% to 76% since 1972.
This rosy picture does not apply equally to all countries or to all sub¬
groups within countries, whether developed or developing. Within-nation
wealth inequalities have remained stable or increased (Sala-i-Martin,
2002). Female economic empowerment and gender equity norms vary
by region and country (Seguino, 2007) . Education levels are stagnant or
declining in a few regions, countries, and subgroups, and gender gaps
remain larger in these locations than elsewhere (e.g., sub-Saharan Africa;
Bloom, 2006). Cosmopolitan communications are not uniformly avail¬
able across states or groups (Norris and Inglehart, 2009). Peace and
liberties are likewise lacking in particular “hotspots” and for particular
groups (Institute for Economics and Peace, 2012).
Nonetheless, in the majority of states, hierarchies have shifted en bloc
upward - many of the world’s citizens are better off than they used to be.
This has the most profound impacts on the most disempowered people
and groups. For example, small differences in absolute levels of average
wealth and economic development among the poorest states and people
are associated with the strongest effects on the fulfillment of basic needs
such as food, water, and health, as well as on overall quality of life, literacy,
higher education, gender gaps in education, and subjective well-being
(e.g., Diener and Diener, 1995). These effects are mediated by increased
perception of freedom of choice, and supplemented by democratization
and social liberalization (Inglehart, Foa, Peterson et ai, 2008). Civil and
political rights gains have been driven by the tremendous strides taken
Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 113
by historically disempowered groups within states, and internationally by
states released from the bondage of colonialism or imperialism. Security
gains have been largest among those states which suffered most from
violence (e.g., sub-Saharan Africa; Institute for Economics and Peace,
2012). More open communications increase government transparency,
providing to citizens, especially those distant from the centers of political
power, the power of greater knowledge.
This empowering (partial) release from “survival mode” for many of
the most disempowered brings their psychological reality closer to that
of more powerful people (e.g., Magee and Galinsky, 2008). Their moti¬
vations and reference standards are converging on improving quality of
life rather than avoiding existential insecurity (see also Inglehart, 1997),
despite persistent inequality. 1 Indeed, conditions are increasingly ripe for
intergroup relative deprivation (similar reference standards but unequal
standards of living; e.g., for race: Major, 1994; for class: Brockmann,
Delhey, Welzel et al., 2008; for a review on relative deprivation, see
Smith, Pettigrew, Pippin et al., 2011). Moreover, as the emancipative
ideals of freedom and equality spread across and within states (e.g.,
Welzel, 2007), hierarchy-legitimizing ideologies and attitudes (such as
the possibility that innate superiority or exceptionalism applies to cer¬
tain groups) are undermined in the minds of the disempowered. If all
humans deserve certain opportunities and freedoms from government,
then the absence of these powers is no longer ideologically justifiable.
This trifecta of (1) disadvantaged groups’ reference standards converging
towards those of the privileged, (2) the continuation of wide discrepancies
in whose needs are met, and (3) the replacement of dominant ideologies
with emancipative ones (e.g., Inglehart and Welzel, 2005), is the perfect
recipe for the delegitimization of agents, structures, and ideologies that
perpetuate intergroup power hierarchies (Major, 1994).
Indeed, research suggests that increases in citizens’ perceptions and
feelings of power, and of political systems’ potential openness, freedom,
and changeability, may increase reactance (Laurin, Kay, and Fitzsimons,
2012), decrease system justification (Martorana, Galinsky, and Rao,
2005), and trigger system-change motivations and cognitive orienta¬
tions (Johnson and Fujita, 2012). These effects are more likely to be
1 This does not necessarily indicate that the disadvantaged have moved entirely from
a prevention to a promotion self-regulation focus (Higgins, 1997), or from an avoid¬
ance to an approach orientation (Keltner, Gruenfeld, and Anderson, 2003). Rather,
it indicates sufficient empowerment to allow only a partial reorientation towards self¬
promotion/approach. Disadvantaged groups’ conditions are often transitional, and their
orientations may reflect an increasingly even equilibrium between security/survival and
broader emancipatory well-being concerns.
114
Fonad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto
associated with distrust than with trust of political systems. In fact,
according to the human development and empowerment models (e.g.,
Welzel and Inglehart, 2008), political cultures that prioritize emancipa¬
tive values (i.e., people power or democratization, tolerance of noncon¬
formists or social liberalization, and generalized trust in other people or
social trust) are more likely to be critical (and express criticism) of gov¬
ernments and engage in transformative mass actions. Rising economic
development has facilitated the increasingly critical, reformist orienta¬
tions towards governments by empowering citizens’ capacity for freedom
of choice and social responsibility. According to these models, economic
growth and other changes, such as higher education, more open com¬
munications, and increased social complexity, have also fostered eman¬
cipative and egalitarian values and excited citizens’ orientation towards
freedom and egalitarianism. Consequently, people are more frequently
holding elites accountable, helping to further institutionalize governmen¬
tal integrity and responsiveness to popular demands, and to promote
guarantees of freedom and social responsibility. In other words, pub¬
lic empowerment increases the capacity for and attention to popular
demands for more public empowerment and governmental responsive¬
ness to such demands. When governments are laggard in providing, or
actively thwart, this empowered aspiration for further empowerment, dis¬
trust of government may result and function as a goad and constraint to
these governments.
Those who perceive emancipative values as individualist might assume
that, in collectivist governmental systems relying on norms of the benev¬
olence of authority rather than those of power dispersion and plurality
(e.g., some East Asian systems), distrust may not play such a role (e.g.,
Liu and Liu, 2003) . However, we would argue that the higher concern of
governments in such systems to avoid criticism and maintain social har¬
mony (Liu and Liu, 2003) makes even the potential for popular distrust of
government a strong effect of and potentiator of popular empowerment.
For example, in China, the state recognizes that the country’s economic
development is at a “critical” ($1,000-3,000 GDP per capita) juncture,
where people are beginning to move beyond basic survival concerns.
And so the government has accepted (within somewhat narrow bounds,
to be sure) the inevitability of popular discontent at this stage, while
simultaneously initiating efforts to ensure that this discontent is not
manifested in corrosion of the benevolent paternal image of the state, in
distrust of and delegitimization (and destabilization) of the regime itself,
through reforms aimed at those problems most likely to delegitimize and
destabilize - inequality and corruption (e.g., Yang, 2006).
Our assertion that the various forms of popular empowerment
can lead to increased criticism and distrust of government may be
Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 115
counterintuitive. To understand this apparent irony, it helps to discuss
the situation of people who are strongly versus only weakly subordinated.
In the most oppressed and powerless communities, authorities can seem
so powerful, so immutable, so awe-inspiring or terrifying, as to be almost
superhuman in the images they project of themselves (e.g., Glassman,
1975; Merriam, 1938; Weber, 1947, pp. 358-60). The people in some
of these oppressive environments may be given the right to select (or
rubber-stamp) their rulers, but never to resist or disobey or often even
criticize or escape them - for example, pre-seventeenth-century England
(Burgess, 1992); pre-2011 Syria (Wedeen, 1999); contemporary North
Korea). Regarding people’s orientations towards these “divine,” “semidi¬
vine,” or sacrosanct rulers, we would assert that there could never be
popular trust or distrust - only faith, terror, or irrelevance to the lives of
the “peasantry” they rule. Political discontent then takes, or is given, the
flavor not of functional distrust, but of dysfunctional apostasy. And that
is precisely because in such exclusionary and oppressive systems, poli¬
tics, authority, and the state are placed above and beyond the populace
(Lewin, 1943), both symbolically and practically in terms of influence
and responsibility, and normatively through establishment of faith- or
terror-based legitimizing myths. One usually does not speak of trust
or distrust in dealing with forces of nature or agents beyond control or
reason.
In politics, as in other asymmetric social relationships, relationships of
trust or even distrust (as opposed to a relationship of faith, obedience,
adjustment, or fear) can only exist when participants mutually assume
they have a reciprocally participatory relationship, where both trustor
and trustee have responsibilities or obligations towards each other, and,
more importantly, have at least some influence over each other (e.g.,
Farrell, 2004). This may also apply to perceptions of (in)justice and
(il) legitimacy, which are closely linked to (dis)trust (e.g., Tyler, 2003).
To speak of trust or system justification towards government in extremely
oppressive or deprived conditions (e.g., Henry and Saul, 2006; Jost, Pel¬
ham, Sheldon etai, 2003) misses the functional irrelevancy to the people of
these attitudes in such circumstances. Trust in local communities or sub¬
groups is a much more relevant and important factor, functionally and
realistically, for people in these conditions (e.g., Scott, 1977). Further,
interpreting oppressed people’s trust or system justification as authentic
overlooks the likelihood that expressions of trust or system justification
under oppressive circumstances are unlikely to be a free, deliberate, and
empowered choice in judgment, but rather a result of powerful propa¬
ganda, other forms of state manipulation or incapacitation of the peo¬
ple’s ability to judge (e.g., censorship of cosmopolitan communications,
isolationism, economic and educational deprivation, agenda-setting,
116
Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto
scapegoating), or a habitual survival technique due to the inherent danger
in criticizing oppressive governments (e.g., Norris, 2011).
As oppression lessens, authentic (i.e., relatively free, deliberative, and
functional) direct and indirect political expression and participation
increase. Politics and state become a humanized inclusive value domain
rather than the superhuman domain of times past (e.g., Lewin, 1943).
The more a populace has the discretion as well as the resources to
be included (or establish their inclusion) in the processes of political
decision-making, and the more fundamental its role or influence in
that process, (1) the more relevant and important it is to citizens to
make accurate judgments as to whether to trust, justify, or legitimize
the political system and the authorities that manage it, (2) the higher
the bar they set for making these judgments (for a similar theoretical
approach that makes this connection between power, rising expecta¬
tions, and breakdown of government-constituent relations, see Chandra
and Foster, 2005; Davies, 1979), (3) the freer they are to express these
judgments, and (4) the more their political culture emphasizes making
such judgments and acting on them. And it seems that as the world’s
publics find themselves more and more in this position, they are finding
and expressing that they do not like what they see.
The conditions of disadvantage
Our theorizing posits that political trust hinges on how empowering or
disempowering both the social ecology and the government within are,
and whether they are (equally) so for all groups. We now focus on how
well empowerment concerns are realized for disadvantaged states and
groups, how this influences emancipative values, and how this affects
political trust.
Many developing countries’ economies have grown - several at aston¬
ishingly high rates - over the past decades. Consequently, these states’
people increasingly emphasize democratization values (Welzel and Ingle-
hart, 2008). Across the globe, nearly uniformly, people endorse democ¬
ratization values, with very similar prioritization of civil liberties, free and
fair elections, and more participatory approaches to the political process
(e.g., legislation by referenda), regardless of world region or historical
experience of democracy (Norris, 201 1). In fact, the data show that there
is now wider support for enacting laws by referenda among citizens in
Africa and Eastern Europe than there is in North America, Scandinavia,
or Western Europe (see Norris, 2011). However, substantial discrepan¬
cies between developing and developed states persist on economic and
political empowerment; subsequently, people in the developing world still
Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 117
show lower support of and consensus on the social trust and social liber¬
alization dimensions of emancipative values (e.g., Norris, 2011; Welzel
and Inglehart, 2008).
The economic and political empowerment experienced by many devel¬
oping states emboldens subordinated groups to express populist eman¬
cipative values as well as collective grievances, but the insufficiency and
inequity of this empowerment leads this expression to take the form of
intergroup conflict (Schock, 1996). Violence and conflict restrict people’s
boundaries of trust to their kin and in-group members (i.e., decreasing
social trust: White, Kenrick, Li et al., 2012), and increase their author¬
itarianism (i.e., increasing emphasis on conformity; e.g., Duckitt and
Fisher, 2003). Among more collectivist cultures (which tend at present to
be situated in developing states or subordinated groups within developed
states), threats to collective freedoms elicit more psychological reactance
than do threats to individual freedoms (Jonas, Graupmann, Kayser et al.,
2009). When we put these findings together, it seems that political and
economic empowerment may be facilitating the adoption and expression
of populist emancipative values as well as collective emancipative and
survival values, while the insufficiency or inequity of this empowerment
may be hindering social trust and liberalization among disadvantaged
groups.
Recall that our argument is that political distrust is often high because
popular standards for governance, based in empowerment of eman¬
cipative values, have risen. Unfortunately, the empirical data to test
this idea are not ideal, but some are consistent with the hypothe¬
sis. Uncritical respect for and deference to authority among citizens
has been shown to be negatively related to some emancipative values
(Inglehart, 1997; Welzel, 2007). Institutional trust is negatively related
to freedom-associated Schwartz values, particularly self-direction, with
both country-level socioeconomic and governance indices included in the
model (Morselli, Spini, and Devos, 2012), and empowerment, emanci¬
pative values, and political distrust covary over time in the expected
directions (Welzel and Inglehart, 2008).
Our theoretical analysis also implies there should be differences
between privileged and disadvantaged groups within states on eman¬
cipative values and trust in government. Unfortunately, extant studies
fail to test such associations. However, research shows that some individ¬
ual and collective emancipative values, such as rejection of dominance
and egalitarianism (Lee, Pratto, and Johnson, 2011), participatory pol¬
itics (Norris, 2011), and social responsibility (e.g., Bobo, 1991), are
higher among disadvantaged groups. Distrust of government also seems
to be more prevalent among more disadvantaged groups (Catterberg and
118
Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto
Moreno, 2006; Hudson, 2006; Mishler and Rose, 2001; Norris, 2011).
But the level of distrust of government among the people of different
states and subgroups depends not only on political culture and the his¬
torical trajectory of government-constituent relationships but also on
the extent to which governments are perceived to be empowering in the
present, which has much to do with the shape of existing institutional
structures and performance.
The failures of institutional structures and
political elites
For all managed democracies, governments prioritize how institutional
structures serve three functions: development, distribution (e.g., institu¬
tionalization of legislative and economic equality and procedural democ¬
racy), and policing (Neumann and Sending, 2010; Weiss, 1998). To con¬
sider whether institutional structures match their people’s aspirations, it
is instructive to compare clusters of governments that differ on these
priorities. However, we acknowledge that states can vary in the ways and
extent to which they adopt and apply these priorities, both between each
other and over time (e.g., Walby, 2009). Thus, the following analysis
makes inferences about archetypes rather than assuming that all states
which can be classified in each cluster operate in the same ways or to the
same extent as we describe.
Liberal states are more concerned with the politics of distribution
than with the politics of development (Weiss, 1998). These states can
be divided into two categories according to their ideological position on
and procedural implementation of the politics of distribution: neolib¬
eral, or uncoordinated “free-market” states (e.g., the USA), and social
democratic states (e.g., Sweden; Walby, 2009).
In neoliberal states, market effectiveness is the primary principle guid¬
ing political policy and action. Such systems tend to be individualistic,
competitive, and acquisitive. Given the prioritization of nonintervention
over nondomination, neoliberal states enforce the “personalization” of
trust or distrust more than in social democratic states, where vulnerabil¬
ity and uncertainty may be more attenuated due to wider institutional
guarantees (Pettit, 1998). Several studies in wealthy neoliberal states
have shown that economic individualism is fundamentally hegemonic
and counter-democratic, denying social responsibility in government for
all citizens; rising inequality and intergroup discrimination character¬
ize these states (e.g., Walby, 2009). Furthermore, these states privilege
exchange norms over reciprocity norms, potentially producing problems
for reciprocal institutions such as social security or consumer-protection
Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 119
bureaus (Braithwaite, 1998). For disadvantaged groups, the history of
formal exchange that excluded them as reciprocal partners gives them
few alternatives but to distrust (e.g., Molm, Whitham, and Melamed,
2012).
In neoliberal institutional environments, elites often value power, mas¬
culine domination, competitive success, and acquisition - for themselves
as individuals and subgroups and for their states (Ruppert, 2000) . The
experimental games Dictator and Ultimatum provide an analogous situ¬
ation, as these games’ goals and rules (not necessarily in participants’
choices) prioritize competitiveness and acquisitiveness. In environments
emphasizing these priorities, research shows that the powerful tend to
be proud, strategically motivated, less honest, economically egocentric,
dominating, prejudiced, less concerned with social responsibility, and
less empathic with others compared to the less powerful (e.g., Chancel¬
lor and Lyubomirsky, 2013; Handgraaf et al., 2008; Hilbig and Zettler,
2009). When power holders are less constrained through the availabil¬
ity of plausible deniability mechanisms, they are even more likely to
exhibit such tendencies (Dana, Weber, and Kuang, 2007). However,
akin to social democracies, in experimental games with rules emphasiz¬
ing reciprocity, power holders do not display many of these tenden¬
cies even when establishing plausible deniability is possible (van der
Weele, Kulisa, Kosfeld et al., 2010; see also Lammers and van Beest;
Sassenberg, Ellemers, Scheepers, and Scholl; and Stamkou and Van
Kleef, this volume, on political elites) . A pair of studies have addressed
the question of the interaction between power position and normative
environment on sociopolitical attitudes more directly. De Oliveira, Gui-
mond, and Dambrun (2012) showed that holding dominant power leads
to justification and legitimization of inequality and the status quo pri¬
marily in hierarchy-enhancing (antiegalitarian) normative environments,
as opposed to in hierarchy-attenuating (egalitarian) normative environ¬
ments. For example, the ideology of a government in power, as well
as the structure of governance in a state, can influence the trust and
well-being of disadvantaged groups directly through influence on govern¬
mental performance. Bjornskov (2008) finds evidence for this, showing
that inequality decreases with growth when left-wing governments are in
power, but increases with growth when right-wing governments are in
power.
Our analysis implies that distrust of and dissatisfaction with govern¬
ments should be greater in neoliberal than in social democratic states,
given how vastly neoliberal states underrate their citizens’ aspirations for
economic redistribution and civil and political rights (e.g., Norton and
Ariely, 2011; Sidanius and Pratto, 1999). Differences between dominant
120
Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto
and subordinate groups on egalitarianism and social responsibility are
widest in such individualistic, liberal, and wealthy states (Lee et al ., 2011).
Trust in and satisfaction with developed neoliberal governments are lower
overall than in social democratic states (Norris, 2011). Likewise, in the
USA, subordinated groups distrust government more than dominant
groups due in part to higher concern for equality and social responsibility
among subordinates (Bobo, 1991; Hong and Bohnet, 2007).
Neoliberal forms of government have been at least partially adopted in
much of the developing world (Agnew, 2009) .The problems associated
with developed neoliberal governments are exacerbated in many devel¬
oping states by lingering existential levels of economic insecurity and
conflict, as well as corruption, patronage, factionalization, and repres¬
sion of citizen demands for democratization and egalitarianism (e.g.,
Khan, 2005). Such problems make the ordinary functioning of regimes
more complicated, less efficient, more discriminatory, and, in the end,
more disempowering for both state and citizenry, particularly for disad¬
vantaged groups (Khan, 2005). Yet citizen demand for some dimensions
of democratization and egalitarianism is high. The gap between such
emancipative demands and their realization plants the seeds of political
distrust. The grounds most fertile for these seeds are states that are not
achieving growth or security - that is, those states failing to deliver on
the existential survival needs and aspirations of their peoples as well as
their emancipative needs and aspirations (e.g., Russia; Catterberg, and
Moreno, 2006; Norris, 2011). Governments in those few developing
states that do deliver on these existential aspirations, or that are strongly
driven or constrained by norms of benevolence, social responsibility, and
avoidance of shame, and are thus responsive to popular priorities and
sentiment, can have remarkably high levels of satisfaction with and trust
in political institutions - for example, Vietnam (Norris, 2011) and Tai¬
wan (Liu and Liu, 2003).
Thus, for both developed and developing states, when citizens’ aspira¬
tions are met by the structure, goals, and performance of the government,
citizens may trust and be satisfied with government. However, the more
inequalities reflect different unmet needs among subgroups, the more a
government leaves aspirations unfulfilled for some groups. In neoliberal
states or states adopting some neoliberal forms, the absence of vetting
and adjustment of laws to provide compensatory protections respecting
diversity and equality (Ruhl and Ruhl, 1997), and the presence of insti¬
tutional discrimination (Sidanius and Pratto, 1999) produce inequalities
in both outcomes and procedural fairness.
In contrast, social democracies address inequality and group diversity
through extensive state intervention, with the guiding assumption that
Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment
121
the state is the ward of all the people, and governance must be socially
responsible (e.g., Walby, 2009). Citizens in these states have among the
highest emphases on emancipative and egalitarian aspirations for their
governments (Norris, 2011). Reflecting the match between state struc¬
ture and performance and citizens’ political culture, social democratic
states have some of the highest levels of trust (as confidence) in and sat¬
isfaction with government in the world (Norris, 2011). However, social
democratic structures must be backed by large amounts of wealth and
high stability in order to provide social safety nets and respect for diver¬
sity (e.g., Weiss, 1998). This may make them more vulnerable to eco¬
nomic (Weiss, 1998) and demographic and political-cultural shocks (e.g.,
Denmark; Rydgren, 2004), as well as prevent less wealthy or stable states
from relying on this model to satisfy their citizens.
Overall, existing evidence shows that increased distrust of government
results from stronger (empowered) political appetites for empowering,
responsive governance, and the failure of governments to respond to this
hunger. Disadvantaged groups’ dissatisfaction with government is espe¬
cially affected by the failure of government to enable their empowerment.
Those dissatisfied with the way democracy works in their governments
include supporters of losing political parties in electoral contests, peo¬
ple low on subjective well-being and life satisfaction, people with low
incomes, and citizens of less economically developed, badly governed,
and repressive states (Norris, 2011). To the extent that the past and
the present inform disempowered people’s expectations, they would not
expect benevolent treatment or outcomes from government. Given that
the disempowered are increasingly more educated, better informed, and
more predisposed to be critical of authority, we should not be surprised
that they would recognize, learn, and act from distrust of authorities who
chronically make little effort to recognize and respond to their needs and
aspirations.
Conclusions and future directions
Given that democracy requires some consent of the governed, distrust in
government can cause alarm. This need not be the only response to dis¬
trust. Political distrust can improve democracy by making politics more
participatory, and making governments more accountable and responsive
to their people - all their people (Pettit, 1998; Welzel, 2007).
Despite this, political distrust among the disadvantaged, born of their
rejection of inequality, their growing empowerment, and the normal¬
ization of openness (e.g., via increased political transparency and avail¬
ability of information) also means that dominant groups face increasing
122
Fonad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto
challenges to their hegemony, possibly leading to domestic social polar¬
ization (Bjornskov, 2007). Such tension and polarization can also be
seen internationally, as dominant and liberal states are increasingly scru¬
tinized and held accountable for their hypocritical support for condi¬
tions, statements, and actions that oppose the emancipative principles
they purport to promote. Whether political distrust is a good thing for
democracy depends on whether one considers the empowerment of the
disadvantaged to be an essential goal of democracy, or whether puta¬
tive participation suffices. Equally, the effects of political distrust depend
on the extent to which governments and dominant groups contest this
empowerment of the disadvantaged. The more disputed the road to egal¬
itarian emancipation, the more likely it is for political cultures to regress
from emancipative democratic ideals, and for dominance hierarchies to
establish themselves all over again.
Despite the evidence for our thesis, our review uncovered areas that
require further research. First, the literature should move beyond treating
nation states as either monoliths or collections of individuals to address
the conditions of within-state subgroups’ political cultures, their orien¬
tations towards their governments, and the conflicts that may arise with
increasing emancipation of the disadvantaged from the shackles of exis¬
tential insecurity. While we found some evidence to support our theo¬
rized feedback loop between distrust and empowerment for both citizens
of disadvantaged states and members of disadvantaged groups within
states, more research is needed to confirm the correspondence of this
relationship between the two levels, and to ascertain what differences, if
any, exist in the relationship between these two levels.
Second, there is little empirical work on the influence of international
governmental organizations and interstate relations (particularly inter¬
national conflict and intervention) on distrust of domestic governments,
despite the rich literature on their relation to the trajectories of develop¬
ment, popular political cultures, and government-constituent relations.
These two additional layers of complexity regarding development and
political culture suggest that collective needs, aspirations, and emancipa¬
tive values should be considered alongside values of individual emancipa¬
tion, particularly notions such as social harmony and collective liberation.
For example, perceived group victimhood can result from either hege¬
monic within-state or interstate histories and experiences of persecution
or oppression. Rotella, Richeson, Chiao et al. (2013) show that such vic¬
timhood may have effects on whether popular trust resides in members
of an exclusive in-group (e.g., conservative politicians) or in members of
a superordinate group (e.g., national politicians).
Third, much of the work on trust and system justification fails to
ground these judgments in a theory of all that trust and distrust do for
Political distrust: the seed and fruit of popular empowerment 123
citizens in the context of neediness and disadvantage, as we have done
here. Such a perspective would consider the balance of the material, rela¬
tional, and psychological costs and benefits of perceptions or expressions
of (dis)trust or (un)fairness among constrained peoples. Such conditions
are rarely addressed through surveys of or experiments on first-world
citizens.
Fourth, dominants may adopt insidious uses of even emancipative
ideologies, through hypocrisy or plausible deniability (Aupers, 20 1 2; Liu
and Mills, 2006), to counter the empowerment of disadvantaged groups’
political cultures (e.g., Jackman, 1994). More subtle consideration of
ideologies, beyond their oppressive or emancipative nature, according to
the ways in which they are used, is essential for theories of social and
political development.
Finally, changes in the world prioritize research on the psychological
and political consequences of political and social complexity. For exam¬
ple, from the perspective of constituents, what constitutes their social
systems has become more masked (Giddens, 1991). Such ambiguity
may lead to insecurities and self-doubt about what constitutes “real¬
ity” (Aupers, 2012). This may cause difficulties with political causal
attributions and attributions about intentionality, capacity, and con¬
sistency, and the resultant uncertainty should increase distrust. Dis¬
advantaged groups especially may adapt by exhibiting higher attribu-
tional complexity (Foels and Reid, 2010), which may attenuate the
influence of individualist ideologies (Foels and Jassin, 20 1 2) and ignite
the collective self-perceptions and intergroup comparisons needed for
them to perceive violations of entitlements (Major, 1994). Distrust may
thus reduce social complexity by habituating action based on suspicion,
monitoring, and demand for and activation of institutional safeguards
(Lewis and Weigert, 1985). Research is needed to untangle the rela¬
tionships between power dynamics in social environments, the various
forms of social and psychological complexity, and political trust and
satisfaction.
This chapter put forth a conceptual analysis of, and presented
evidence for, the dynamics of asymmetries in political distrust. Citizens
of developing states and subordinated citizens elsewhere increasingly
emphasize emancipative and egalitarian values, but their governments
often continue to fail to deliver these. A history of neglect, exclusion,
hypocrisy, and contemporary vulnerability and uncertainty feed distrust.
In our view, this is not symptomatic of any sort of pathological inca¬
pacitation (i.e., “paranoia”) among the disadvantaged. Political distrust
among the disadvantaged, like their noncompliance with and opposition
to the agents or abettors of their oppression and disadvantage, can
be a manifestation of an unprecedented thimbleful of power gained,
124
Fouad Bou Zeineddine and Felicia Pratto
allowing them to move beyond the enforced day-to-day, to join the
stream of history (Memmi, 1991) and become a greater part of that
stream.
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8 All power to our great leader: political
leadership under uncertainty
John J. Haller and Michael A. Hogg
National leaders are widely viewed as powerful players on the world stage.
They play the chess game of diplomacy, trade, and war and are forever
etched into history for their roles in world affairs. But national leaders
are also extremely important to the citizens they represent, because they
provide a sense of national identity and stand for the collective values and
purpose of a country. During times of uncertainty, be it international or
domestic conflict, economic instability, or change of national identity,
leaders may be particularly important because it is in these contexts
that they are expected to provide clear direction and to help resolve
uncertainty. Indeed, leadership in times of uncertainty often shapes a
leader’s legacy. Leaders may lose their power or never come to power
if there are any questions or doubts about their ability to weather such
a storm. In times of great uncertainty, citizens often demand strong,
directive leadership to manage the crisis and maintain the nation’s sense
of identity, strength, and international status.
Often, during uncertain times, citizens are willing to grant unprece¬
dented autonomy and power to leaders in an attempt to manage crises. In
contemporary US history, there are several examples of citizens tolerat¬
ing, and even celebrating, seemingly extreme behavior by the leadership
during times of uncertainty. For example, immediately following the
September 1 1, 2001 terror attacks, the US Congress passed the Patriot
Act, granting the government the power to monitor its citizens, an act
that would have seemed unthinkable before the crisis occurred. During
World War II, the US public supported the internment of thousands of
US citizens of Japanese ancestry solely on the basis of their ethnicity. At
the height of the Cold War, Senator Joseph McCarthy’s anticommunist
witch hunt was entertained by the highest levels of government.
Often these unprecedented submissions of power to authority are
functional - that is, leader behavior effectively manages uncertain times
and serves both leader and follower. When such power has temporary
negative ramifications for followers, the power dynamics usually return
to the previous, functional balance of power within the nation, with
130
Political leadership under uncertainty
131
concessions made to those harmed by leadership. In some cases, how¬
ever, nations abdicate enormous amounts of power to leaders who are
highly directive, autocratic, and authoritative. Many times, this results in
leaders wielding complete and often destructive power over their nation.
Some of the best-documented examples of this type of destructive lead¬
ership are the authoritarian governments of the twentieth century.
The history of modern social psychology is intractably linked with
the analysis of authoritarian regimes of the twentieth century, particu¬
larly those regimes associated with World War II. Researchers have long
sought to explain how masses of people are led to commit atrocities and
support inhumane policies - the nasty outcomes of oppressive authori¬
tarianism. Fewer scientific inquiries investigate how authoritarian power
is established. What seems particularly problematic is that quite often
nations are willing, if not eager, to hand over great power to political
leaders who, in turn, use that power to oppress their citizens. Often these
leaders use portrayals of conflict and threat to engineer perceptions of an
uncertain world where they (and their party) can offer solace, protection,
and purpose in an effort to galvanize support from the masses.
The mid-twentieth-century Soviet Union and Nazi Germany are well-
known examples of popular governments turned authoritarian states. In
1917, Russian workers and peasants embraced the overthrow of the czar
and the ensuing Soviet seizure of power. Using socialist ideology, Joseph
Stalin capitalized on the country’s economic hardships and created an
isolationist Soviet Union. He then sold the crushing burden of his com¬
mand economy to the Soviet people by exploiting a perceived threat from
foreign countries.
Similarly, Adolf Hitler invoked German nationalism and antipathy to
communists to gain absolute control of the Nazi party and Germany. He
exploited the travails and uncertainty of the great depression of the 1 930s,
employing his National Socialist agenda to portray communists and Jews
as the source of Germany’s trouble, while insisting that nationalism,
militarism, and absolute control by the Nazi party were the only way to
defeat these threats.
There are many other examples of leaders using political and eco¬
nomic uncertainty to gain and maintain power: Benito Mussolini took
advantage of his country’s economic hardship that was fueling fears of a
socialist revolution to establish his fascist state. Francisco Franco’s mil¬
itary dictatorship was founded on extreme nationalism and a perceived
impending threat of communism. After being installed by the Soviets,
Kim Il-sung (and later Kim Jong-il) engaged in an endless campaign
portraying the USA as an imminent imperialist threat to maintain popu¬
lar support of the isolationist regime. In 1972, Ferdinand Marcos gained
132 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg
dictatorial control over the Philippines by manufacturing threats from
insurgent communists and Muslims. In the 1970s, Pol Pot created a
polarized and demonized perception of a “decadent” West to support
his creation of a national prototype and his ensuing extermination of
prototypical deviants.
It is difficult to explain why a nation, or any group for that matter,
should ever want to grant such unfettered power to one individual or a
small leadership clique. Historically, research defines leadership as influ¬
ence rather than the use of power (Chemers, 2001). Under authoritarian
rule, however, group members abandon true leadership and embrace
power-based rule. The goal of this chapter is to examine the social-
psychological processes behind the transformation of leadership through
influence into the abuse of power. We begin with a brief review of leader¬
ship theories from social psychology and organization science. We then
draw on the social identity theory of influence, the social identity the¬
ory of leadership and uncertainty-identity theory to explain how uncer¬
tainty may motivate citizens to endorse leadership that is extremist and
power-based rather than leadership that works towards the achievement
of collective goals.
Leadership and influence
Leaders play an essential role in the existence and function of most
groups by acting as a focal point for group identity, group goals, and
collective action. Chemers (2001, p. 376) provides a practical defini¬
tion of leadership as “a process of social influence through which an
individual enlists and mobilizes the aid of others in the attainment of
a collective goal.” Central to this conceptualization of leadership is the
process of social influence whereby leaders influence followers to achieve
the goals of the group. Although the words power and influence are often
used interchangeably by laypeople, social and organizational psycholo¬
gists distinguish power from leadership in that power gains compliance
rather than true influence (Chemers, 200 1; Cialdini and Trost, 1998;
Lord, Brown, and Harvey, 2001; Moscovici, 1976; Raven, 1993). The
influence of leadership is also distinct from mere conformity to group
norms (e.g., Turner, 1991). With these distinctions in mind, we note that
most research in leadership tends to examine leadership efficacy - how
successful a leader is at achieving collective goals. This concept is inde¬
pendent of evaluations of leaders personally (e.g., liking, not liking), their
goals, or their methods of attaining these goals (e.g., Kellerman, 2004).
The concept of effective leadership dates back to ancient Greece and,
for centuries, focused on the traits of great leaders. Because leaders are a
Political leadership under uncertainty
133
focal point in group life, they tend to stand out from other group mem¬
bers, creating the perception that leadership characteristics are a result of
personality rather than leadership context (cf. Gilbert and Malone, 1 995;
Haslam, Rothschild, and Ernst, 1998; Ross, 1977). While this perception
may persist in the popular mind, the scientific proposition that leadership
comes from innate personality attributes has waned in the last century.
Recently, however, there has been a slight re-emergence of trait theories
focusing on leader charisma (e.g., Avolio and Yammarino, 2003) and
elements of the “Big Five” personality dimensions (Judge, Bono, Ilies
et al., 2002).
Modern leadership theories tend to take an interactionist approach in
which leader efficacy hinges on how effective certain leadership char¬
acteristics are in different contexts. The 1960s saw the rise of contin¬
gency theories in which the effectiveness of particular leadership styles
is contingent on properties of the leadership situation. In these theo¬
ries, leadership styles vary in terms of leader orientation towards tasks or
subordinate support (e.g., Fiedler, 1964; Flersey and Blanchard, 1969;
Flouse, 1971; House and Mitchell, 1974), or inclusion of subordinates
in group decision-making (Vroom and Jago, 1988; Vroom and Yetton,
1973). Contingency theories are somewhat limited in that they focus on
leadership style rather than social interaction between leader and follow¬
ers; a limitation addressed by transactional theories.
Transactional leadership theories focus on elements of leader-follower
interaction that are beneficial for one or both parties (Messick, 2005).
An effective example of this exchange approach to leadership is Hollan¬
der’s study of idiosyncrasy credit (1958; Hollander and Julian, 1970).
According to Hollander, followers grant leaders power and status credits
to establish and maintain group order; in turn, leaders act in the most
effective way to achieve followers’ goals. A key component of the leader-
follower transaction model is conformity - that is, leaders who conform
to group norms earn trust from their followers and idiosyncrasy credits.
These credits are a resource that the leader may “cash in” in exchange
for innovative behavior - that is, behavior that may violate group norms
but move the collective in new directions (Hollander, 1958, 1985). This
unique leadership ability to inspire group members to accept change that
may be outside existing collective goals is a key concept in the study of
transformational leadership.
Transformational leaders inspire group members to adopt a novel
group vision that may be outside their own self-interest (Burns, 1978;
Judge and Bono, 2000). Transformational leadership requires the con¬
sideration for followers’ needs that is present in transactional leader¬
ship. But, in addition, transformational leaders must also intellectually
134 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg
stimulate followers by challenging their current mind-set and providing
inspiring or charismatic leadership to motivate transformation (Aviolo
and Bass, 1987; Bass, 1985). Leader charisma is an essential element
of the transformational leadership that is necessary to persuade follow¬
ers to put aside self-interest in favor of working towards collective goals
that serve to transform the group (Bass, 1990; Bass and Avolio, 1993).
Although it harkens back to earlier personality theories (and their inher¬
ent problems), leader charisma is not necessarily a personality trait, but
it may be attributed to the leader by followers based on their tendency to
personify leadership (see Fiske and Depret, 1996; Meindl, Ehrlich, and
Dukerich, 1985). An important consideration about charismatic lead¬
ership is that it may cut two ways (e.g., O’Connor, Mumford, Clifton
et al., 1995); charismatic leaders can be a transformative force for posi¬
tive social change (e.g., Gandhi) or for societal destruction (e.g.. Hitler)
and, in less extreme cases, good and evil can be subjective.
The study of social cognition has influenced leadership research as
well, resulting in theories such as leadership categorization theory (e.g..
Lord, Brown, Harvey et al., 2001; Lord, Foti, and DeVader, 1984; Lord,
Foti, and Phillips, 1982; Lord and Hall, 2003; Lord and Maher, 1991).
According to this perspective, people form schemas of how leaders should
behave based on past experiences and preconceptions (see Fiske and
Taylor, 1991). When people behave in ways that are in line with the
leadership schema, they are mentally classified as a leader and are granted
all other traits associated with that schema. In this way perceptions of
leaders contain a “top-down” element whereby many of the beliefs about
leaders are inferred from mental sets of traits.
While these perspectives on leadership have garnered empirical sup¬
port, they have not really benefited from theoretical advancements in
mainstream social psychology. In particular, modern leadership research
tends to focus on the cognitive categorization of leaders and charismatic
transformational leadership but ignores the role of group processes in
leadership analysis. Recently, researchers have suggested that leadership
cannot be thoroughly understood by focusing solely on leader behavior or
categorization; instead, research and theory on leadership should focus
on connections between the leader and group as well as the inter- and
intragroup processes that influence power and leadership (Lord, Brown,
and Harvey, 2001).
Social identity and leadership
The analysis of social acceptance of authoritarian power rests on an analy¬
sis of the conditions under which followers effectively conspire with their
Political leadership under uncertainty
135
leaders to permit and sustain power-based leadership. Leaders direct
groups; thus, leadership is a group process where the interaction between
the roles of leader and follower plays a fundamental part. A key insight
into leadership as an identity-based group process is provided by the
social identity theory of leadership (Hogg, 2001, 2003, 2012).
Social identity theory
Social identity theory (Tajfel and Turner, 1979; Turner, Hogg, Oakes
et al., 1987) is an analysis of group behavior resting on the premise that
people use group membership, rather than idiosyncratic traits, to define
and evaluate themselves and others. According to social identity theory,
people naturally group themselves and others into social categories that
are cognitively represented as prototypes. Group prototypes embody a
set of attributes (thoughts, attitudes, feelings, behaviors) that characterize
similarities that are shared by group members yet distinguish the group
from others. Effective prototypes follow the meta-contrast principle -
that is, they minimize differences within the group while maximizing
the differences between groups. This increases the perception of group
entitativity - the idea that the social group has clear boundaries and
is a distinct entity (Hamilton and Sherman, 1996). Because prototypes
conform to the meta-contrast principle, they tend to define an ideal rather
than a typical group member. They are also contextually dependent on
the comparison group, such that the meta-contrast principle may dictate
different or modified prototypes with different comparison groups.
When we perceive ourselves or others as belonging to a social group, we
assign traits that are prototypical of the group to the individual. This gives
us a sense of certainty because whether we know people individually or
not, we can infer prototype-specific information about them. This process
by which we view a person as a group member rather than a unique
individual is called depersonalization. When people are depersonalized,
they are evaluated by how well they fit the prototype which determines
their level of group prototypicality. In this sense depersonalization is
related to stereotyping, as all group members are perceived to embody
some characteristics of the prototype.
Since our cognitive representation of the social world is structured
around group memberships, we categorize not only others but also the
self. Self-categorization theory (Turner et al., 1987) clearly details the
process by which we depersonalize the self and define elements of our
self-concept from prototypes of groups to which we belong. When this
social category is psychologically salient, we evaluate the self in terms
of the group prototype and tend to view ourselves as more similar to
136 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg
in-group members and different from out-group members, and tend to
think, feel, and behave in a manner consistent with the prototype.
Categorization of the self and others satisfies two major motivations:
self-enhancement and reduction of self-uncertainty. People are motivated
to view the self in a positive light, including elements of the self that are
derived from group membership; thus, individuals seek to achieve and
sustain a positive in-group evaluation (e.g., Abrams and Hogg, 1988;
Rubin and Hewstone, 1998). Often the motivation to self-categorize is
much simpler - it occurs to reduce uncertainty about who one is, one’s
identity.
Uncertainty-identity theory
According to uncertainty-identity theory, individuals are highly moti¬
vated to reduce subjective self-uncertainty (Hogg, 2000, 2007, 2012).
Feeling uncertain about the self, whether personally or interpersonally,
or about one’s place in society, is an aversive state which people are
motivated to resolve. Identification with social groups provides a relief
from subjective self-uncertainty through the depersonalization process
whereby the self-concept is derived from a group prototype. Group iden¬
tification reduces self-uncertainty because the prototype associated with
a given social identity provides a guide to how individuals should think,
feel, and behave in potentially ambiguous situations. Group prototypes
provide a model of how individuals within the group and the group as
a whole should behave as well as who members of other groups are and
how they behave. In this sense they serve to inform people of how they
should interact with members of their own and other groups. The ten¬
dency to identify with groups to reduce uncertainty is enhanced by the
perceived entitativity of the social group (Hogg, Meehan, and Farquhar-
son, 2010; Hogg, Sherman, Dierselhuis et al., 2007). Entitative groups
tend to have distinct boundaries and clear, prescriptive prototypes. Iden¬
tification with these groups gives individuals an unambiguous concept
of who they are and where they fit in the social world. Consequently,
uncertainty motivates group members to identify with their in-group,
and its defining values whatever they may be; this is particularly the case
when a group is viewed as highly entitative. Both self-enhancement and
uncertainty reduction provide motivation for individuals to engage in
self-categorization and adhere to group prototypes.
There are frequent situations where uncertainty, particularly societal
uncertainty, can be high. Economic instability is experienced by even the
richest countries in today’s highly interdependent global economy, and
it impacts each citizen in turn. Food shortages and natural disaster leave
Political leadership under uncertainty
137
great masses of people wondering how they will feed, clothe, and shel¬
ter themselves and their loved ones. Societal inequality across the world
promotes conflict between groups who consider themselves deprived and
those who control resources. As these circumstances emerge, evolve, and
shift, people look to leaders of important groups to provide answers.
When uncertainty is extreme, people may seek groups that are highly
entitative with simple prototypes and rigid hierarchy (Hogg, 2004). This
may motivate people to seek leadership that is extreme, ideologically
rigid, and authoritarian (Hogg, 2005a). In this sense managing uncer¬
tainty is a potentially powerful tool for authoritarian leaders because
of its ability to motivate social-identification processes. To analyze this
relationship further, the social identity theory of leadership provides a
theoretical framework that helps to integrate social-identity processes,
leadership, and uncertainty-identity theory.
Social identity theory of leadership
The social identity theory of leadership (Hogg, 2001, 2003, 2012) takes
into account the premise that leadership is a feature of social groups and
is subject to the social cognitive processes that influence group member¬
ship and group behavior. As outlined in the previous section, the pro¬
cesses of self-categorization and depersonalization play a central role in
social-identity processes, group behavior, and intra/intergroup relations.
Because leadership is a feature of group processes, it is highly plausible
that social-cognitive processes have great influence on leader emergence,
longevity, influence and effectiveness. The social identity theory of lead¬
ership aims to integrate the impact of leader categorization and charisma
with important group processes that result from psychologically belong¬
ing to the group, particularly perceptions of group prototypicality.
One key tenet of the social identity theory of leadership that sets it
apart from other more traditional theories is that, when group mem¬
bership is important to people, leaders who are more prototypical are
more effective regardless of personality or leadership schemas. Highly
prototypical group members are embodiments of the group prototype;
thus, they are more likely to be the source of influence and conformity
processes while less prototypical members generally conform to these
influence processes (e.g., Abrams and Hogg, 1990; van Rnippenberg,
van Knippenberg, and van Dijk, 2000). Prototypical group members
are also more socially attractive and better liked than less prototypical
members, allowing them to more easily gain compliance from the rest of
the group (e.g., Berscheid and Reis, 1998). Prototypical leaders are also
perceived as being central group members who identify strongly with the
138 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg
group, leading other members to trust them to act in the group’s best
interest. This trust grants prototypical leaders a seemingly paradoxical
advantage: By being prototypical they accumulate idiosyncrasy credits
(Hollander, 1958) that allow them to act in more innovative, transfor¬
mational ways, behavior that is at odds with the prescribed behavior of the
group prototype. In other words, idiosyncrasy credits allow leaders to be
nonprototypical and garner acceptance for novel ideas and group direc¬
tions (e.g., Haslam and Platow, 2001a; Platow and van Knippenberg,
2001).
For prototypical leaders, trust is a powerful subsidy, particularly when
the group faces uncertainty. Through categorization people are able to
infer who they are, who others are, and the terms of interaction. A cohe¬
sive in-group has reduced risk of behavior that may threaten group mem¬
bers because individuals have a vested interest in the good of the group.
Highly prototypical leaders are trusted greatly and this sense of trust
is bolstered in the face of risk and uncertainty. One powerful way that
group members respond to risk and uncertainty is increased group loy¬
alty (Hirschmann, 1970). Often leaders manage trust by focusing the
group’s attention on threats from mistrusted enemies - for example, by
characterizing Westerners as immoderate and immoral, and Muslims as
dangerous and fanatical. Indeed, this has been a powerful tool for nearly
all authoritarian leaders when consolidating and maintaining power.
Since prototypicality defines the standard of group life, members pay
a great deal of attention to prototype-relevant information (e.g., Reicher,
1984). Thus the fact that a leader is prototypical makes him or her stand
out against the background of the group, and this focus of cognitive
activity enhances the correspondence bias - people disproportionately
map others’ attributes onto invariant underlying personality traits or dis¬
positions (Gawronski, 2004). This attributional process produces the
perception of a charismatic leadership personality (cf. Haslam and Pla¬
tow, 2001a, 2001b). Prototypical and charismatic leaders’ popularity and
high status with the group leads them to be trusted to know what is best
for the group and grants them the power to influence others (e.g., Erber
and Fiske, 1984). Charismatic leaders play up their own prototypicality
and dismiss personal behavior that may appear nonprototypical. They
also direct attention to marginal group members who may be perceived
as deviant or use comparisons with relevant out-groups in an effort to
enhance their own prototypicality through a contrast effect. Another tac¬
tic is to vilify other contenders for leadership as being nonprototypical or
even subversive. Authoritarian leaders use all of these strategies to help
consolidate power, eliminate political challengers, and maintain control
over a highly entitative group.
Political leadership under uncertainty
139
Uncertainty and power in authoritarian states
Often authoritarian leaders use discourse that creates a perception of
uncertainty about the nation’s safety, integrity, or future by exaggerat¬
ing threats from other nations, people, or political parties. In line with
uncertainty-identity theory, this process can raise group membership
salience and drive national identification, further boosting the power of
a prototypical leader (Hogg, 2005b; Hohman, Hogg, and Bligh, 2010).
As is often the case in times of national change, the rise of authoritarian
states occurs during periods of great social conflict. Whether it is war,
poverty, conflicting social values, or simply a changing national identity,
social conflict and disagreement are sources of intense uncertainty. Peo¬
ple question their national identity, their values, and their future during
these periods. It is during these times that the greatest number of people
are experiencing the highest levels of uncertainty and desperately seeking
answers. Authoritarian leadership is incredibly adept at capitalizing on
this overwhelming need to reduce uncertainty.
Social conflict can threaten the distinctiveness of one’s social group,
driving members to seek enhanced group entitativity. Authoritarian lead¬
ers help to create a sense of strong entitativity that can lead the group to
develop a mind-set of constant threat from foreign influence. Authoritar¬
ian leaders foster homogeneity and conformity by promoting uncertainty,
suspicion, and intolerance while suppressing dissent, deviation, and crit¬
icism. They actively construct a rigid, indisputable worldview that dis¬
tinguishes the superiority of the state while simultaneously portraying it
as relentlessly threatened by outside forces. Authoritarian leaders also
strengthen entitativity by defining the nation and its people in essentialist
terms. Citizens view properties that define their national identification
as a deep-seated and immutable essence that characterizes the nation
and its citizens. Essentialism (e.g., Haslam et al., 2000) creates the per¬
ception that group beliefs and attitudes are natural and right and have
an important function to explain the group and its place in the world.
In this sense, leaders who engineer and construct these entitative beliefs
create a national ideology (e.g., Thompson, 1990) that is powerful and
directive.
By using uncertainty to create a sense of enhanced entitativity, leaders
foster a state where members are likely to derive a large part of their self-
concept from their social identity as party members and to have a less
distinct sense of a boundary between self and group (cf. Swann’s notion
of “identity fusion” - e.g., Swann, Polzer, Seyle et al., 2004; Swann, Rent-
frow, and Guinn, 2003). Through this transformational process, charis¬
matic leaders can use extreme uncertainty to manipulate identification
140 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg
and perceptions of entitativity and produce a radical state with ortho¬
dox and ideological belief systems. These nations develop an oppressive
and suffocating environment that encourages orthodoxy and conformity,
and stifles creativity and the introduction of new ideas. Initially, this
degree of orthodoxy can be attractive to citizens; such a desire was cap¬
tured when Milan Kundera wrote of life in Cold War-era, communist
Czechoslovakia: “Authoritarianism is not only hell, but all the dream of
paradise - the age-old dream of a world where everybody would live in
harmony, united by a single common will and faith, without secrets from
one another” (Kundera, 1979).
History suggests, however, that this dream is short-lived. These states
become constricted environments where citizens live in fear of being
exposed as a dissident or for not actively supporting the party. Creativity,
innovation, and change by followers become exceedingly difficult, and
leadership has relatively unlimited and unregulated power over citizens’
lives. This too was captured by Kundera: “Once the dream of paradise
starts to turn into reality, however, here and there people begin to crop up
who stand in its way. And so the rulers of paradise must build a little gulag
on the side of Eden. In the course of time this gulag grows ever bigger and
more perfect, while the adjoining paradise gets even smaller and poorer”
(Kundera, 1979). Often when these states succumb to such a stifling
condition, citizens begin to lose faith in leadership, thus undermining
leader influence. It is at this point that authoritarian leaders often rely on
the threat of power to maintain control. It is this exorcism of power that
lies at the crux of effective and destructive leadership.
Abuse of power is the destructive legacy of authoritarian leadership.
Research in organizational science and social psychology defines effec¬
tive leadership as a transformation of collective vision through influ¬
ence, not through the coercive exercise of power (Chemers, 2001). Some
researchers argue that influence itself is a form of power as it enables
persuasion. Indeed, Turner (2005) included persuasion as the power to
influence in his three-process theory of power. The power to persuade,
however, is the ability to influence others’ actions by convincing them
the behavior is right, that they want to do it. While this is often the case
in effective forms of leadership, what is often observed in authoritarian
leadership is the other side of power: control. Control is the ability to
gain compliance and influence actions that people do not want to take,
or are uninterested in taking. Authoritarians gain compliance through
two processes: authority and coercion. Leaders use their authority to
control followers’ behavior through group rules and norms. Citizens are
compelled to obey the leader because the law demands it. Coercion is the
use of threat to control citizens against their will. For example, the strict
Political leadership under uncertainty
141
police states of the Soviet and Nazi regimes were well known for using
the threat of sanction, imprisonment, and death to control citizens.
While some leaders of extremely orthodox groups may not use their
power in destructive ways, authoritarian political leaders often do.
According to uncertainty-identity theory and the social identity theory
of leadership, hierarchical role differentiation and the power afforded
to prototypical leaders in highly entitative groups provide insight into
leaders’ harsh treatment of followers. Uncertainty influences leadership
by motivating group identification, thereby enhancing prototype-based
leadership. In conditions of high uncertainty, people not only identify
more strongly with the group, but they also seek to enhance the enti-
tativity of their group. Entitativity gives the group clear structure with
well-defined role relationships; thus, leadership structures tend to be
concrete with defined leader-follower role relations which reduce fol¬
lowers’ uncertainty about their place in the world. High entitativity and
prototype-based leadership are not inherently negative; they provide a
guide for behavior and inform people of their standing in society. How¬
ever, extreme uncertainty may transform leadership, as “a process of
social influence through which an individual enlists and mobilizes the
aid of others in the attainment of a collective goal” (Chemers, 2001,
p. 376), into a form of autocratic, power-based tyranny (Hogg, 2001,
2005a, 2005c; Hogg and Reid, 2001).
When citizens identify with their nation as a highly entitative collective,
the leader is invested with excessive power to influence. There are two
essential reasons for this: trust and hierarchy role differentiation. Because
prototypical leaders are trusted and liked by group members, they are
given the opportunity to be creative and innovative. This affordance may
lead them to stray from the best interests of the group. Citizens tend to
approve of the leader’s actions, or, if not, they believe that disapproval is
nonnormative and are motivated not to voice dissent. In most groups, if
a leader’s behavior is too radical and violates the norms of the group, he
will gradually begin to appear nonprototypical, thus losing his power to
influence. However, when a group is highly cohesive and characterized
by extreme ideological identification, consensual liking for the leader is so
strong, and attribution to charisma so complete, that dissent and criticism
are unlikely. In these situations, there are no checks or restraints on the
leaders’ ability to influence and they are able to make decisions with no
entity in place to analyze their prudence or ethics. Social psychologists
have been able to reproduce this effect in abstract laboratory settings,
showing that group members are willing to endorse leaders who behave
in ways that are not in the best interest of the group, as long as the leader
is considered highly prototypical (e.g.. Duck and Fielding, 2003).
142 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg
The second reason that power becomes excessive in highly salient,
highly entitative groups is that group structure is transformed into a
starkly hierarchical role differentiation. Highly prototypical leaders who
maintain a position of power appear exceedingly influential, consensually
approved of, and essentially charismatic. This produces a status differen¬
tiation between leader and follower whereby the leader appears separate
from the rest of the group and the leader-follower relationship becomes
an intergroup relationship. The real-world consequence of this transfor¬
mation is a genuine disconnect between the lives of leaders and citizens.
Leaders are viewed as mythical “others” who wield vast power, defend
against tyrannical national enemies, and have eyes and ears everywhere.
Leaders, however, can be incredibly out of touch with the lives of
citizens. The intergroup context severs the empathic bond between leader
and follower. Leaders and followers no longer share the same group
membership. Instead, leaders inhabit a higher status that is perceived
as consensual, stable, and legitimate. In this context there is significant
potential for conflict between leaders and followers because power, as
a commodity, is owned solely by the leadership. This situation is often
naturalized and maintained by the development of powerful legitimizing
myths (Chen and Tyler, 2001). Both leaders and followers can recognize
a status-based group difference, the leadership inhabiting an all-powerful
out-group position to the subservient in-group. Leaders may try to re¬
establish their in-group status and influence by confirming their in-group
prototypicality; however, under authoritarian rule this is often not the
case.
Authoritarian rulers preserve power (and status) differentiation, thus
maintaining an intergroup relationship between leader(s) and followers.
Paradoxically, this state of affairs diminishes the leader’s ability to influ¬
ence based on prototypicality. This loss of influence can be perceived
by the leader as a threat to his or her power and contribute to a sense
of mistrust, rejection, and distance between the leader and followers. In
turn, the experience of the leader as an out-group member further severs
the empathic bond, motivating the leader to exercise power, rather than
lead. In accordance with Turner’s (2005) three-process theory, leaders
who lose their ability to persuade must inordinately rely on authority and
coercion to exert their will.
In the absence of influence through persuasion, leaders who desire
to control citizens must do so through either authority or coercion. If
that leadership is still viewed as legitimate, leaders can impose their will
through authority. Though the people may not be persuaded that the
laws are in their best interest, they still see the ruling body as legitimate;
thus, laws must be followed to maintain order and the integrity of the
Political leadership under uncertainty
143
group. It is important to note that deference to authority is not always
experienced as oppression but is often viewed as voluntary submission
which can empower followers (Tyler and Degoey, 1995).
If the leadership has lost the ability to influence and is not viewed
as having legitimate authority, power may be exerted through coercion.
In the most poisonous display of power, leaders use coercion with no
effort to persuade or appeal to legitimate authority; instead they control
followers’ behavior against their will, usually through threat of sanc¬
tion, imprisonment, or violence. Followers under the force of coercion
have no conversion of personal belief or will; they are forced to behave
according to the will of leadership under threat from the leadership itself.
Coercion causes the dissolution of the empathic bond between leader
and follower and any semblance of trust. It is important to note that
Turner (2005) notes that this form of power is, in fact, the weakest pro¬
cess because it reflects a destruction of the functioning and unity of the
group.
Conclusion
The history of human civilization is fraught with destructive leaders who
abuse their power and the citizens who granted them that power. It
is hopeful that so much attention is paid to these authoritarian rulers
because humankind seeks to end what often turns out to be a very
dangerous and destructive form of rule. In this chapter we use social-
psychological research and theory to elucidate the rise and rule of
destructive leadership.
An effective way to reduce subjective self-uncertainty, particularly
that which is related to societal uncertainty, is to identify with subjec¬
tively important social groups. When people experience extreme societal
upheaval and uncertainty, they are more likely to seek solace in highly
entitative, ideologically rigid, and hierarchical groups. These groups fos¬
ter authoritarian rule and are highly susceptible to abuse of power by
leaders. Within these highly entitative groups, the prototype is typically
simple, and leaders that closely resemble the prototype gain popularity
and trust from followers. Along with social attractiveness and trust comes
a great deal of power for these leaders as well.
In these authoritarian states, leaders may manipulate or even generate
perceptions of uncertainty as a means of increasing and maintaining
power. Uncertainty further drives members to identify and seek relief
from the group and the leader. Uncertainty also enhances the perceived
entitativity of the group, and, in concert with high member identification,
grants the leader extreme power of influence. Authoritarian leaders use
144 JohnJ. Haller and Michael A. Hogg
their influence to build a state where they maintain complete control
over resources, military power, and media. If leaders feel their influence
slipping, they may abuse this power in an effort to maintain control over
the populace.
However, authoritarian states that endure over time do so by more than
brute force. The leaders of these states use control over their followers’
lives to engineer a condition of uncertainty that perpetuates their rule.
They employ propaganda to produce the perception of a state with an
uncertain future that needs the guidance of the leader. They generate
perceptions of attempted subversion from insiders who would harm the
collective and threats from alien outsiders who would destroy their nation.
Authoritarian leaders’ absolute control of the flow of information in
their states allows them substantial ability to use uncertainty to influence
people. By creating “true believers,” a leader does not need a constant
threat of force to maintain control. It is notable, at the time of writing
this chapter, that North Korea, one of the few remaining authoritarian
states from the twentieth century, maintains absolute control over all
media within the state and remains one of the most closed societies on
earth.
Most leadership scenarios do not devolve into the abusive all-powerful
state of affairs witnessed in autocracies. Contrary to earlier positions
that leadership is entirely distinct from power, nearly all leaders exercise
power, but in effective leader-follower relationships this occurs in the
form of influence. In line with the social identity theory of leadership,
the power to influence grows as a leader is more prototypical. This advan¬
tage does not automatically lend itself to abuse; ideally, more prototypical
group members embody the will and goals of the group. Effective proto¬
typical leaders are able to influence members in ways that help the group
achieve its goals and maintain a positive identity. History, though, has
clearly been marked by leaders that have twisted power to create a state
that is abusive, stifling, and oppressive. Authoritarian leaders abuse pro¬
totypicality and manipulate uncertainty to galvanize their grip on power
and then enact that power on citizens in oppressive and destructive ways.
These states are characterized by a significant breach between leader and
follower in terms of power and status - a power distance that breeds inter¬
group distrust and lack of empathy. This government structure creates an
environment primed for the abuse of the meek by the strong. As noted
by Turner, however, the use of abusive power is enacting the weakest
form of power because it destroys the very foundation of the state. As
such, authoritarian governments cannot stand forever by crushing their
citizens; they change or they crumble.
Political leadership under uncertainty
145
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9 Those who supported and voted for
Berlusconi: a social-psychological profile
of the willing followers of a controversial
political leader
Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone
If Italians still vote for Berlusconi, they are the problem not him.
(Mario Monti, prime minister, February 20, 2013)
Introduction
Recently, the political arena has become more personalized, pointing
out the importance of psychological variables beyond the traditional
sociodemographical ones (Caprara and Zimbardo, 2004; Jost, Nosek,
and Gosling, 2008). Voters are active, reasoning individuals that seek to
achieve the best match between the political offer, on the one hand, and
their personality, values and attitudes on the other hand (Jost, Federico,
and Napier, 2009). The process of the personalization of politics involves
two different aspects, one regarding the political candidates and the other
concerning the electorate.
On the one hand, the focus of political campaigns is shifting more
and more onto the candidate profile. In this sense, the personality of
candidates is taking a key role in mass communications, the goal being
to attract the attention and the support of voters. On the other hand,
the psychological characteristics of voters, rather than their belonging to
different groups, are becoming the pivotal variables in affecting political
choices (Caprara and Zimbardo, 2004; Jost, 2006). Nowadays, beliefs,
inclinations, personality traits, and values are becoming the most impor¬
tant factors that shape voters’ choices in contemporary Western societies.
In Italy, a controversial and unusual political leader, Silvio Berlusconi,
has typically embodied and promoted these processes in the last 20 years.
But still, in modern democracies, voters are often skeptical and distrust¬
ful of political leaders, as political cynicism, negativism, and abstention
seem indeed to be growing phenomena (e.g. Gnisci, Di Conza, Senese
150
Those who supported Berlusconi
151
et al., 2009; Pattyn, van Hiel, Dhont et al., 2012). As regards Berlus¬
coni, many legitimate reasons for suspicion and doubt have been raised
both in Italy and abroad since he first entered politics. For example,
throughout the last decade, such an international, authoritative review
as The Economist has repeatedly referred to Berlusconi’s character and
his policies in negative terms, considering Berlusconi to be unfit to rule
the country (“An Italian story,” 2001), and as a political leader who
has eventually fooled an entire country by prejudicing its future (“Silvio
Berlusconi’s record: the man who screwed an entire country,” 2011).
However, although alternating wins and defeats have characterized his
political career, Berlusconi has been able to overcome suspicions and
worries, gaining a consistent and remarkable electoral consensus that
allowed him to be a leading actor in Italian and international politics for
almost two decades. How and why? Part of Berlusconi’s political success
evidently stems from his pervasive influence on the media, being himself a
media mogul. However, this is only part of the story. Berlusconi’s political
success can be explained by looking at the ideological and psychological
interface between himself and his electoral base. In fact, there is empirical
evidence that people tend to vote for parties or coalitions that have lead¬
ers they perceive as similar to themselves and that pursue and promote
policies they value as important (e.g., Caprara, Schwartz, Capanna et al.,
2006). In this perspective, many scholars agree that people feel attracted
by ideologies (and politicians) that provide the best match with their
own psychological motives, thereby creating a sort of “elective affini¬
ties” - that is, the strength of mutual attraction connecting the con¬
tents of belief systems and the motives of their adherents (Jost et al.,
2009).
Our main argument assumes that Berlusconi was able to achieve mass
consensus because he has effectively managed to comprehend and appeal
to the reasoning, beliefs, values, and character of the right-wing electorate
(or at least a large part of it). Within this framework, it appears to be of
primary importance to understand the psychological roots of Berlusconi’s
consensus by taking a closer look at those who supported and voted for
him. Who are they? What do they think? How do they see the world? What
is their personality? What do they pursue and what are their goals? Those
were the research questions that guided our investigation. In this perspec¬
tive, the aim of the present chapter was to draw a social-psychological
profile of Berlusconi’s followers by using original survey data gathered
between 2007 and 2008. In the following sections, we will focus our
analysis on the sociopolitical attitudes, personal values, and personality
traits of individuals who voted for the right-wing coalition that supported
Berlusconi as prime minister through a comparison with those who voted
152
Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone
for the opposing left-wing coalition. In the light of “ideology as motivated
social cognition framework” (Jost, Glaser, Kruglanski et al., 2003), we
argue that the key point in understanding Berlusconi’s success is the
interplay between his psychological profile and his populist communica¬
tion, on the one hand, and the psychosocial features of his electoral base
on the other hand. While a lot has been written about Berlusconi (e.g.,
Caprara and Vecchione, 2006), less intensive analyses have been devoted
to his supporters. Naturally, these psychological processes can explain
only part of the entire complex phenomenon of achieving electoral con¬
sensus and practicing political power. Nevertheless, they apparently play
an important, growing, and recognized role.
Social attitudes and political beliefs
In the last years, two kinds of sociopolitical attitudes have became impor¬
tant concepts in political psychology - namely, right-wing authoritarian¬
ism (RWA) and social dominance orientation (SDO). These constructs
were found sufficient to account for a number of diverse phenomena
regarding ideology orientation and intergroup relations. In fact, RWA
and SDO have proven to be the best predictors of policy preferences,
voting behavior, and prejudice (e.g., Altemeyer, 1998; Federico and
Sidanius, 2002; Jost et al., 2003; Leone, Desimoni, and Chirumbolo,
2012; McFarland, 1998; Peterson, Doty, and Winter, 1993; Sidanius
and Pratto, 1999; Whitley, 1999).
RWA is currently defined by a configuration of three attitudinal clus¬
ters: conventionalism, submission to authority, and aggression against
out-groups (Altemeyer, 1996). Individuals high in RWA tend to strictly
adhere to rules, social norms, traditions, and conventions. They tend to
endorse authority uncritically and are inclined to disregard or devalue
norm-violators and disadvantaged out-groups. Conversely, SDO refers
to individual orientation towards group inequality, and is framed within a
theory of intergroup relations in which societies aim to minimize conflicts
by creating ideologies that legitimize the hegemony of dominant groups
and the oppression of out-groups (e.g., Sidanius and Pratto, 1999). Indi¬
viduals high in SDO tend to prefer group relations to be hierarchical,
whereas low scorers prefer equality between groups (Pratto, Sidanius,
Stallworth et al., 1994).
Although RWA and SDO were initially conceived as dimensions of per¬
sonality, recent evidence suggests that RWA and SDO do not assess basic
dispositional traits but instead social attitudes and beliefs that are broadly
ideological in nature (Duckitt, 2001). In this perspective, some authors
have suggested that RWA and SDO are rooted in different motivational
Those who supported Berlusconi
153
processes and socialization patterns. According to the dual process model
of ideology and prejudice, RWA and SDO have different personality and
attitudinal antecedents. RWA is mostly predicted by a belief that the
world is a dangerous place to live in, which, in turn, is predicted by the
personality dimension of social conformity (Duckitt, Wagner, du Plessis
et al., 2002). On the other hand, SDO is mainly predicted by the belief
that the world is a competitive jungle, which, in turn, is predicted by the
personality dimension of tough-mindedness (Duckitt et al., 2002).
This conception of RWA and SDO is rooted in an enduring research
tradition that has investigated the distinction between different dimen¬
sions of individuals’ political attitudes and values (e.g., Braithwaite, 1994;
Duckitt, 2001; Rokeach, 1973; Schwartz, 1992). Originally, Eysenck
(1954) depicted a two-factor model of ideology, in which one com¬
ponent was represented by conservatism versus radicalism: this factor
entails conformity, social order, and religiousness at one pole, and free¬
dom, autonomy, relativism, and permissiveness at the other. This dimen¬
sion closely resembles RWA. The other component was represented by
tough-mindedness versus tender-mindedness: this factor involves power
and inequality on one side and egalitarianism and concern for the under¬
privileged on the other. This factor strongly recalls SDO.
More recently, some authors have focused on the ideological dimen¬
sions of conservative agendas, identifying two basic components (e.g.,
Jost et al., 2003): (1) acceptance of versus opposition to inequality, and
(2) resistance versus openness to change. According to Jost et al., these
two dimensions reflect a fundamental psychological motivation - namely,
avoiding threat and uncertainty. Acceptance of inequality would more
closely translate into SDO, which focuses on competition and inequal¬
ity in group status. On the other hand, resistance to change would
more strongly translate into RWA, as it encompasses the convention¬
alism and authoritarian submission that make individuals high in RWA
very committed to the conservation of the status quo. Similar reasoning
is advanced by other authors who argue that economic and sociocultural
conservatism exist as distinct strands (e.g., Feldman and Johnston, 2009;
Zumbrunnen and Gangl, 2008).
Within this framework, we aimed to investigate differences in social
attitudes and political beliefs between Berlusconi’s voters and the oppos¬
ing left-wing voters. Our research questions were, what do they think
and how do they see the world from a political point of view? In 2007,
we administered a questionnaire containing measures of sociopolitical
attitudes to 517 participants (252 men and 264 women, 1 missing value;
the average age was 34.55 years - SD = 10.50), asking them to report
how they had voted at the last national election of 2006. In that election,
154
Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone
two important political leaders were contending for political consensus.
Berlusconi was the candidate for prime minister of a right-wing coalition
called Casa delle Liberta (CdL - “Home of Freedom”), and Prodi was
the candidate of a left-wing coalition called Unione (“Union”). In this
sample, 209 participants said that they had voted for CdL, and 225 had
voted for Unione (the remaining responses were missing, were those of
nonvoters, or were those of participants that had voted for minor parties) .
Participants were interviewed via a structured questionnaire, including
the scales ofRWA (Funke, 2005) and SDO (Pratto et al., 1994). More¬
over, different aspects of political beliefs were also measured (Chirum-
bolo, Areni, and Sensales, 2004). These attitudinal dimensions were as
follows: laissez-faire economics (i.e., free-market ideology), ethnocen¬
tric and anti-immigrant attitudes, preference for law and order, support
for equalitarian and solidarist policies, multiculturalism, pacifism and
antimilitaristic attitudes, nationalism, preference for an autocratic lead¬
ership and a centralized political power, individualism, and religiousness.
Definitions and sample items of the constructs are given in Table 9. 1
The results indicated that left-wing and right-wing voters significantly
differed in RWA and SDO. Berlusconi’s voters were higher in both RWA
and SDO than the left-wing voters of Unione (see Table 9.2). These
results were also found when we controlled for demographics such as
gender, age, and education.
Individuals that score higher in authoritarianism tend to adhere to
social norms and conventions that are traditional and well accepted, and
tend to obey uncritically and trustfully established authorities, institu¬
tions, and their representatives (e.g., the government, Catholic Church,
Pope). At the same time, they disrespect and devalue deviant groups
that are considered unconventional and norm-violators (e.g., homo¬
sexuals, immigrants, radicals, atheists, communists). In the same way,
people that score higher in SDO reveal a preference for hierarchical
intergroup relationships, desiring that their own in-group dominate the
out-groups. They believe that society is reasonably divided into differ¬
ent social groups, and that some are superior to others by nature. They
are motivated and feel it legitimate to perpetuate the distance between
groups in terms of social and material status, and thus that inferior groups
“should stay in their place” and be controlled by superior groups.
Moreover, the electorate significantly differed also regarding all
political attitudes considered except for religiousness (see Figure 9.1).
Controlling for gender, age, and education, multivariate and univariate
analysis revealed that Berlusconi’s voters, compared with left-wing
voters, showed more support for free-market economy, ethnocentrism, law
and order, nationalism, autocratic leadership, and individualism', on the other
Those who supported Berlusconi
155
Table 9.1 Definitiotis and examples of sociopolitical attitudes and beliefs
Scale
Definition
Example
Right-wing
Conventionalism; authoritarian
Obedience to and respect for
authoritarian¬
submission; authoritarian
authority are the most
ism
aggression
important virtues children
should learn
Social
Preference for hierarchical
Superior groups should
dominance
(vs. equal) intergroup
dominate inferior groups
orientation
relationships; desire of one’s
own in-group to dominate the
out-groups
Laissez-faire
Support for free market
The market always breeds
economy vs. support for
richness The state should not
welfare state
intervene in the economy
Ethnocentrism
Attitudes against immigration
Immigration increases
policies and immigrants
criminality Illegal immigrants
should be immediately
expelled
Law and order
Demand for social order and
We need more order and
discipline; respect for the law
discipline for everybody
Equality and
Support for policies that favor
Giving equal opportunities to
solidarity
equality among people and
everybody increases social
groups; solidarity
progress
Multiculturalism
Refer to a pluralistic,
The state should encourage
and
multicultural, and
diversity and the freedom of
universalism
internationalist view of the
cultural, philosophical, and
world and of society
political expression
Pacifism
Support for pacifist policies and
If the government wants to
antimilitaristic stands
conserve resources, we should
cut military expenditure
Autocratic
Preference for autocratic
Only a strong leader can solve
leadership and
leadership and centralized
the problems of our country
power
political power
Nationalism
Demand for strong national
We need to regain a strong
identity and feelings
national feeling
Individualism
Attitudes that set the individual’s
The individual comes before the
needs and interests before the
community’s; individual
achievement as the most
important thing
community
Religiousness
Importance of religious and
Religious education is very
spiritual values
important for the individual
156
Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone
Table 9.2 RWA and SDO scores as
a function of voting
Unione (Left)
CdL (Berlusconi)
RWA
46.31
53.73
SDO
46.96
53.23
Figure 9. 1 Political attitudes as a function of voting for Berlusconi versus
the left-wing parties.
hand, they endorsed to a lesser extent egalitarianism, multiculturalism, and
pacifism.
Berlusconi’s voters believed above all in economic laissez-faire and free-
market ideology, as opposed to the welfare state and government inter¬
vention in the country’s economic structure. They favored policies that
encompass individual freedom and light regulation. They favored private
(vs. public) entrepreneurship and supported the noninterference of the
state in business and the economy. Conversely, they opposed polices that
tend to increase the redistributive function of the welfare state, to sup¬
port the disadvantaged strata of society, and to reduce the discrepancies
between social groups and integrate different cultures and communities.
These kinds of political beliefs appear to be consistent with their higher
level of SDO.
Right-wing (vs. left-wing) voters believe that a strong, autocratic leader
can solve the problems of the nation by imposing his decisiveness and
determination over the ineffective power of parliament and political
Those who supported Berlusconi
157
High
Acceptance
SDO
of inequality
LAISSEZ-FAIRE
CdLBERLUSCONI
INDIVIDUALISM
JD LEADERSHIP
ETHNOCENTRISM
NATIONALISM
High RWA
jg0 Openness _0 40
to change
UNIONELEFT
©
• PACIFISM
RELIGIOUSNESS
Resistance
to change
SOLIDARITY
MULTICULTURALISM
Low
Increase
SDO
equality
Figure 9.2 Plot of the political attitudes as a function of RWA and SDO.
parties. This centralization of power would make political decisions faster
and more efficient, ensuring respect for the law, and discipline and order
in society. Moreover, this kind of political belief appears to be in line with
their higher level of authoritarianism.
We then considered the two basic dimensions of social attitudes (RWA
and SDO) together with political beliefs. We conceived RWA as indexing
the factor of “cultural conservatism/resistance-to-change” versus “cul¬
tural liberalism/openness, and SDO as indexing the factor of “eco¬
nomic conservatism/acceptance-of-gro up-inequality” versus “economic
liberalism/increase-group-equality.” In Figure 9.2, we plot the political
attitudes and the two groups of voters (left-wing and right-wing) in this
bidimensional space.
Figure 9.2 clearly shows how voting and the different sociopolitical
beliefs group together. The votes for Berlusconi cluster together with
beliefs such as economic laissez-faire, individualism, autocratic leadership,
and ethnocentrism in the quadrant of high RWA/resistance-to-change
and high SDO/acceptance-of-group-inequality. On the other hand, votes
for the left-wing side go together with multiculturalism, solidarity, and
pacifism in the quadrant of low RWA/resistance to change and low
SDO/acceptance-of-group-inequality. Political beliefs such as nationalism
and law and order gravitate mainly on the high RWA/resistance-to-change
pole, as they do not appear to imply an endorsement of inequality per se. 1
1 Interestingly, religiousness did not seem to load in any of the two dimensions. This result
can be explained by the presence of Catholic parties and voters in both left-wing and
right-wing coalitions.
158
Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone
Taken together, these results indicate a very clear picture of the
sociopolitical beliefs of Berlusconi’s supporters and how they see the
world. Many of these ideological stands have characterized the entire
political career of Berlusconi and his charismatic populist leadership,
matching well those held by his electorate.
Since he entered politics in 1994, Berlusconi has appealed to his elec¬
torate by promising a “rivoluzione liberale” (literally, “laissez-faire revo¬
lution”) with slogans such as “tneno stato, meno tasse” (i.e., “less state,
less tax”). Even in the last election campaign of 2013, the key promise
he made was that he would cut, or even abolish, property tax on houses
(known in Italian by its initials as IMU). He has always promised vot¬
ers that he would pursue laissez-faire politics by reducing the power of
the state in society and by cutting public expenditure (e.g., on public
education and the healthcare system) .
Presenting himself as the champion of laissez-faire economics in a
populist fashion, Berlusconi guaranteed that he would provide the strong
and autocratic leadership necessary to support that cause. This aspect of
his profile is also consistent with another important political stand of his
electorate: belief in the need for a powerful leader able to solve the prob¬
lems of the country. Berlusconi was often portrayed to the electorate as
being more innovative, dynamic, dominant, and energetic than Prodi, the
leader of the left-wing coalition (Caprara and Vecchione, 2006). From
the point of view of his electorate, decision-making in parliamentary
democracy is slow and ineffective, and a centralized political leadership
is seen as much more desirable. Berlusconi has often expressed his inten¬
tion to centralize power and politics in his hands, often framed as at
the expense of parliament and political parties. This kind of leadership,
however, was often demanded by Berlusconi’s supporters themselves, in
order to ensure social stability and respect for the law, in contrast, in
their opinion, to the deviant groups that cause criminality (such as immi¬
grants) or that are the enemy of personal freedom (such as communists
and political extremists).
Certainly, the anticommunist claims of Berlusconi’s rhetoric are shared
by his supporters and appear to play a crucial role in understanding
his political success. In fact, Berlusconi has always framed his politi¬
cal discourse by referring to two distinct, opposing, and irreconcilable
sides between which the people are urged to choose (e.g., Berlusconi,
2001; Bolasco, Giuliano, and Galli de Paratesi, 2006). 2 In doing this, he
2 For example, in a very famous speech delivered in Milan in 2000, Berlusconi declared,
“The choice that you must make is the choice between two Italies, between two different
conceptions of humanity, of society, of the state: the choice between the Italy of taxes
Those who supported Berlusconi
159
emphasized the distinction between “us” and “them.” “Them” (the
enemy) is the entire left wing, described as a homogeneous out-group,
completely identified with the communists and the extremists. This
opposing side is always presented as evoking evil consequences (e.g.,
insecurity, unemployment, taxes, hate, the end of individual freedom).
In this way Berlusconi has effectively managed to attract and persuade
the ideologically anticommunist, right-wing electorate.
Last but not least, voters for Berlusconi’s right-wing coalition scored
higher on ethnocentrism, as they were against immigration policies and
had anti-immigrant attitudes. This is not surprising, though, as higher
scores on RWA and SDO were consistently associated with prejudice
(e.g., Altemeyer, 1996; Duckitt et al., 2002). Anti-immigration rhetoric
was not indeed crucial in Berlusconi’s ideology; he has often adopted
a functionalist approach to the question. That is, in Berlusconi’s view,
immigrants are welcome if they can help the Italian economy by their
work, provided that they are guests in the country with permission
to stay (Berlusconi, 2001). However, anti-immigration policies were
pivotal for two important parties in Berlusconi’s coalition - namely,
Lega Nord (“Northern League”) and Alleanza Nazionale (“National
Alliance” - merged in 2008 with Forza Italia into Popolo delle Liberta
(“People of Freedom”)).
Values
Political messages, beliefs, and ideologies are often constructed around
a set of key symbols and values that are both cognitively and emotively
salient. Values are deemed to reflect the needs and wishes of individ¬
uals and groups, and can be defined as broad goals to which people
attribute importance as guiding principles in their lives (e.g., Rokeach,
1973; Schwartz, 1992). Values are consistent and relatively stable across
a variety of situations, circumstances, and domains. They shape attitudes
and behaviors, and for this reason are considered to provide the under¬
lying basis (often implicit) of individuals’ decisions and attitudes. With
respect to ideologies and beliefs, values are theoretically placed at a more
abstract level.
A recent comprehensive and established theoretical framework is the
motivational theory of basic human values of Schwartz (1992, 2005).
This author distinguishes ten motivational types of values: universalism,
that are unjust and too many, of insecurity, of fear, and of unemployment; between the
Italy that only knows how to forbid, to condemn, and to hate, and another Italy, our
Italy, that knows how to love. This is the Italy that I have in mind” (Berlusconi, 2001).
160
Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone
Table 9.3 Values and their underlying motivational goals according to
Schwartz (1992)
Values and motivational goals
Examples
Power, social status and prestige, control or
dominance over people and resources
Achievement, personal success through
demonstrating competence according to
social standards
Hedonism : pleasure and sensual gratification
for oneself
Stimulation: excitement, novelty, and challenge
in life
Self-direction: independent thought and action -
choosing, creating, exploring
Universalism: understanding, appreciation,
tolerance, and protection of the welfare
of all people and of nature
Benevolence: preservation, and enhancement of the
welfare of people with whom one is in frequent
personal contact
Tradition: respect, commitment, and acceptance of
the customs and ideas that traditional culture or
religion provide the self
Conformity: restraint of actions, inclinations, and
impulses likely to upset or harm others and
violate social expectations or norms
Security: safety, harmony, and stability of society,
of relationships, and of the self
Likes to be in charge and tell
others what to do
Being very successful
Wants to enjoy life
Looks for adventures and likes to
take risks
Thinks it is important to be
interested in things
Wants everyone to be treated
justly
Very important to care for the
people one knows and likes
Wants to follow customs and
traditions
Thinks people should follow rules
at all times
Important to live in secure
surroundings
benevolence , tradition , conformity , security , power , achievement , hedonism ,
stimulation , and self-direction (see Table 9.3 for definitions). They are
organized along a two-dimensional, circumplex structure. These two
orthogonal dimensions are “openness to change versus conservatism”
and “self-transcendence versus self-enhancement.”
Barnea and Schwartz (1998) found that, excluding religious parties,
values such as tradition, conformity, and security characterize a conserva¬
tive orientation, while self-direction, hedonism, and stimulation are more
related to a liberal orientation. Similarly, in an Italian sample, right-wing
(vs. left-wing) voters were found to be higher in security, power, achieve¬
ment, conformity, and tradition, and lower in universalism, benevolence,
and self-direction (Caprara et al.3 2006). Values are also related to social
attitudes such as RWA and SDO, whose motivational bases emerged as
Those who supported Berlusconi
161
being partially different from each other (Cohrs, Moschner, Maes et al. ,
2005). RWA related more strongly than SDO to conservation values as
an expression of the motivational goals of social control and security.
Conversely, RWA and SDO related equally to self-enhancement versus
self-transcendence values.
In this theoretical perspective, we aimed to investigate the motivational
underpinnings of Berlusconi’s supporters: our research questions were,
what do they pursue and what are their guiding principles? Therefore,
the Portrait Value Survey that assesses the ten values of the Schwartz
model (Schwartz, Melech, Lehmann et al., 2001) was administered to
1,188 participants (587 men; 598 women; 3 participants were excluded
for failing to report their gender; mean age = 34.5 years). The survey
was conducted in 2007, and participants were asked to report which
coalition they had voted for at the last national election held in 2006. In
this sample, 559 reported that they had voted for a party of the right-
wing coalition that supported Berlusconi (Casa delle Liberta - CdL), and
630 for a party of the left-wing coalition that supported Prodi (Unione).
Multivariate and univariate analysis showed that those who voted for
the Berlusconi coalition (CdL) were significantly higher than the left-
wing voters in the values of stimulation, achievement, power, and secu¬
rity. On the other hand, Berlusconi’s voters were significantly lower than
left-wingers in the values of benevolence and universalism. These results
were found while controlling for demographics such as gender, age, and
education.
We can say that the individuals who voted for the CdL coalition have
as their primary motivation the realization of personal success, aiming at
social status and prestige, to be obtained mainly through control or dom¬
inance over people and resources. Similarly, they tend to give very much
importance to tradition, stability, and respect for social norms. They
appear very committed to the customs and ideas of traditional culture
or religion, and very concerned about the safety and the stability of their
society. They severely condemn deviants and violators of expectations or
norms. On the other hand, they appear to be less interested in and less
guided by principles that stress understanding, appreciation, tolerance,
and protection of all people and nature.
These are exactly some of the values that Berlusconi personally embod¬
ies. In fact, a very common representation of Berlusconi is that of
a self-made man who, from relatively modest origins, could reach an
important position in society, both socially and financially, and who has
even achieved political power and international prestige. He has stood
as a symbol and example for many people. Moreover, in his political
162
Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone
speeches, he has always stressed traditional and religious values, and
national strength and order (Bolasco et al., 2006). 3
In fact, Berlusconi’s political oratory often appeals to the values of
conservation (i.e., tradition, conformity, and security), he himself person¬
ifying the self-enhancement values (i.e., power and achievement). In this
way he has been able to achieve a reasonable match between himself, his
political discourse, and the values of his electorate, and has built a corre¬
spondence between his ideological stands and the motivating standards
and guiding principles of his supporters. Moreover, by reserving for him¬
self the values of tradition and security and ascribing to his opponents
the burdens of uncertainty, division, poverty, hate, and the like, Berlus¬
coni has usually also appealed to the epistemic motives of the right-wing
electorate - namely, the need for security and avoidance of uncertainty
(e.g., Jost et al., 2003). The fact that, over the long term, Berlusconi has
not kept his political promises and, above all, that his public image has
fallen short of the traditional values he has claimed to advocate, could
reasonably explain his eventual partial political decline.
It is worth noting that the values and attitudes of Berlusconi’s support¬
ers are common among conservative supporters in Western societies.
What appears peculiar is the match between Berlusconi’s charismatic,
dominant, dynamic, strong, and tenacious personality (Caprara and Vec¬
chione, 2006) and his skill in interpreting and giving voice to the attitudes
and actions of those Italians who have constituted a great part of his elec¬
toral base. In fact, Berlusconi has shown an indubitable talent in build¬
ing a match between his political communication and populist claims
and the expectations and the psychological needs of his followers. Other
successful conservative figures of the past (such as Margaret Thatcher
or Ronald Reagan) surely showed a clear mastery of subtle communi¬
cation skills. Nonetheless, Berlusconi appears to have gone beyond the
style and qualities of the “Great Communicator,” making it possible for
his electoral base to identify with a character that might have been per¬
ceived as aloof because of his great wealth, media power, and previous
3 For example, in a very famous public speech delivered in Rome on December 2, 2006,
Berlusconi claimed, “[W]e don’t like a mentality that devalues the family founded upon
marriage and upon love between a man and a woman, upon the training of the children to
freedom and responsibility . . . [W]e propose a society based on the values of Christianity,
on the natural family founded upon marriage made by the union of a man and a woman,
in which children are born and grow up. We propose an Italy that will be strong and
respected all around the world. We propose a homeland that everybody identifies with
and that everybody loves . . . Instead, the left-wing is preparing for Italy a future of
uncertainty, of divisions, of social envy, of poverty. The Left is carrying out policies that
destroy the family and do not respect the moral values of the Italian people, the values
of our tradition” (quoted in Bolasco et al., 2006).
Those who supported Berlusconi
163
political connections starting in the late 1970s. Berlusconi did not appeal
only to the supposed tendency of his electorate to show a submissive -
but respectfully distant - devotion to their charismatic leader. He instead
managed to make his character available as a model of identification for
his supporters.
Personality
Personality can be defined as a self-regulatory system that is shaped
dynamically by personal adaptations during the individual life span
(Caprara and Cervone, 2000). This internal system is deemed to con¬
trol processes of the affective, cognitive, and motivational spheres, guid¬
ing people towards the achievement of individual and collective goals.
Moreover, personality provides coherence and continuity in behavioral
patterns across different settings, and generates and preserves a sense of
personal identity (Bandura, 2001; Cervone and Pervin, 2009).
Admittedly, personality does play a role in shaping ideological beliefs
and attitudes (Jost et al., 2003). In this vein, personality traits proved to
be important predictors of ideology and voting, and most of the recent
research has been devoted to the relationship between the “Big Five”
traits and political orientation. The openness factor appeared to be the
most powerful predictor across the studies, left-wingers (or liberals) con¬
sistently scoring higher than right-wingers (or conservatives) in several
different countries (Caprara et al., 1999; Jost et al., 2003; McCrae, 1996;
Shoen and Shumann, 2007; van Hiel and Mervielde, 2004). Conscien¬
tiousness scores are generally higher among conservatives (vs. liberals),
whereas higher agreeableness is usually found among liberals (vs. con¬
servatives) (Caprara et al., 1999; Gosling, Rentfrow, and Swann, 2003).
Recent meta-analysis showed that RWA is mostly predicted by lower
openness and higher conscientiousness, whereas SDO is mainly pre¬
dicted by lower agreeableness (Sibley and Duckitt, 2008).
Less agreement can be found in the literature regarding the other
personality traits. Shoen and Shumann (2007) reported a positive asso¬
ciation between neuroticism and liberals; this, however, was not found in
previous research (e.g., Caprara et al., 2006; Gosling et al., 2003). Extro¬
version turned out to be rarely correlated to political orientation; never¬
theless, energy and dominance (extroversion components) were consis¬
tently associated with right-wing orientation in many studies (see Caprara
and Zimbardo, 2004).
With the growing interest in the moral and interpersonal dimen¬
sion of politics (Graham, Haidt, and Nosek, 2009; van Lange,
Bekkers, Chirumbolo et al., 2012), recent studies have investigated the
164
Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone
Table 9.4 The HEXACO personality traits (Ashton et a\., 2006 ; Lee and
Ashton, 2004)
Personality traits
Definition
Descriptors
Honesty-humility
Defined by characteristics such
as honesty, fairness, sincerity,
modesty, and lack of greed
Sincere, loyal, generous,
altruistic, honest, egoistic,
hypocritical, lying,
presumptuous, haughty
Emotionality
Defined by characteristics such
as anxiety, fearfulness,
sentimentality, dependence,
and emotional reactivity vs.
self-assurance, toughness, and
bravery
Emotional, vulnerable,
anxious, fragile, fearful,
secure, decisive, strong,
courageous, independent
Extroversion
Defined by characteristics such
as talkativeness, sociability,
and cheerfulness vs. shyness,
passivity, and quietness
Extroverted, exuberant,
expansive, open, vivacious,
reserved, shy, silent,
introverted, closed
Agreeableness
Defined by characteristics such
as good-naturedness,
tolerance, and agreeableness
vs. temperamentalness,
irritability, argumentativeness,
and criticalness
Peaceful, calm, mild, patient,
tranquil, irritable, choleric,
aggressive, litigious, irascible
Conscientiousness
Defined by characteristics such
as organization, hard work,
carefulness, perfectionism,
and thoroughness
Precise, orderly, diligent,
methodical, conscientious,
untidy, inconstant, imprecise,
careless, rash
Openness
Defined by characteristics such
as imagination, originality,
creativity, unconventionality,
rebelliousness, and
inquisitiveness
Progressive, eclectic,
innovative, ironic, original,
devout, traditionalist, puritan,
servile, religious
Note. The counter-trait descriptors are indicated in italics.
relationship between personality traits and ideological orientation within
the HEXACO model of personality (Ashton and Lee, 2007; Lee
and Ashton, 2012). The HEXACO model of personality (Honesty-
humility, Emotionality, Extroversion, Hgreeableness, Conscientiousness,
and Openness) emerged from cross-cultural research on the personality
lexicon conducted in different countries (Ashton, Lee, Perugini et al.,
2004; see Table 9.4 for a description of HEXACO traits).
Extroversion, conscientiousness, and openness strongly recall the Big
Five traits. These factors are believed to represent different degrees of
engagement in three areas of functioning: social (i.e., extroversion), task
Those who supported Berlusconi
165
(i.e., conscientiousness), and idea-related (i.e., openness to experience).
The other three factors of HEXACO differ somewhat in their structure
and meaning with respect to the corresponding Big Five traits. In addi¬
tion, the honesty-humility trait cannot by any means be interpreted as a
rotational variant of the Big Five and indeed represents the real unique¬
ness of the model.
The general trait of honesty-humility assesses the inclination not to
exploit other individuals even when there is no risk of negative conse¬
quence for such exploitation (Ashton and Lee, 2007). It refers to dimen¬
sions of sincerity (i.e., tendency to be genuine in interpersonal relations),
fairness (i.e., tendency to avoid fraud and corruption), greed avoidance
(i.e., tendency to be uninterested in possessing wealth, luxury goods,
and signs of high social status), and modesty (i.e., tendency to be modest
and unassuming) (Lee and Ashton, 2004). In general, individuals high in
honesty-humility tend to describe themselves as sincere, loyal, generous,
altruistic, honest, faithful, helpful, undeceptive, and so on. On the other
hand, individuals low in honesty-humility tend to depict themselves as
egoistic, hypocritical, lying, presumptuous, haughty, deceitful, devious,
greedy, crafty, cunning, pretentious, and so on (see Ashton, Lee, de Vries
et al., 2006).
Recent studies have pointed out that the honesty-humility factor
turned out to be positively associated with left-wing orientation (Chirum-
bolo and Leone, 2010; Zettler and Hilbig, 2010). Moreover, honesty-
humility proved to be the second best personality predictor of voting
(after openness), and the HEXACO factors as a whole surpassed the Big
Five ones in predicting voting and ideology (Chirumbolo and Leone,
2010). SDO appeared to be negatively predicted by lower honesty-
humility, while RWA was mainly predicted by lower openness (Lee, Ash¬
ton, Ogunfowora et al., 2010). Furthermore, the relationships between
personality traits and social attitudes appeared to be mediated by social
worldviews (Leone et al., 2012).
Within this theoretical framework, we aimed to investigate the person¬
ality profile of Berlusconi’s voters by mean of the HEXACO traits and
its facets. Our research questions were, who are they and how do they
describe themselves? For this purpose, the HEXACO-PI-R was admin¬
istrated to 279 participants (140 men, 139 women, average age = 37.77
years) shortly after the national election of 2008. This instrument com¬
prises 192 items that measure the six personality factors in the model
(see Lee and Ashton, 2004; Table 9.4 for description).
In the election of 2008, two main parties competed. On the right-
wing side was the Popolo delle Liberta (PdL; literally, “People of Free¬
dom”), Berlusconi’s new party that emerged from the merger of the two
166
Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone
52
51.5
51
50.5
50
49.5
49
48.5
48
47.5
47
PD_Left
■ PdL_Berlusconi
Figure 9.3 Personality profiles of the voters according to the HEXACO
traits. H: honesty-humility; E: emotionality; X: extroversion; A: agree¬
ableness; C: conscientiousness; O: openness.
most important parties of the right - namely, Forza Italia and Alleanza
Nazionale. On the left-wing side was the Partito Democratico (PD)
(“Democratic Party”).4 These two parties conducted a protracted, and
sometimes ruthless, electoral campaign that opposed the principles of
the social democratic left-wing side to the principles of the Berlusconian
right-wing side. In our sample, 126 participants reported voting for PdL
and 153 for PD.
With respect to the general HEXACO traits, the voters of these two
opposing parties showed significant differences (see Figure 9.3). When
we controlled for gender, age, and education, the supporters of Berlus¬
coni’s PdL turned out to be higher in extroversion and conscientiousness
than supporters of the PD, and lower in honesty-humility and open¬
ness. Contrary to expectations and the findings of previous studies, the
supporters of the left and the right did not differ in agreeableness.
How did the supporters of Berlusconi describe themselves as compared
to the supporters of the left-wing party? They scored higher on extrover¬
sion. Usually, such individuals feel positively about themselves, experi¬
encing feelings of energy; they feel confident when they are in the posi¬
tion of leading other individuals or groups, and they like social meetings
and interactions. Berlusconi’s voters scored higher in conscientiousness,
4 This party was formed in 2008 and stemmed from the merger of the Democratici di
Sinistra (the left-wing party) and the Catholic party called Margherita.
Those who supported Berlusconi
167
as characteristic of very organized and reliable persons. Typically, these
people work very hard and discipline themselves to achieve their goals;
they make a lot of effort for accuracy and perfection in their tasks, and
tend to organize their time and their environment precisely. They scored
lower on openness, which is known to be the best personality predictor
of political orientation across culture. Persons with low scores on open¬
ness are not very interested in diverse forms of art, have less intellectual
curiosity, feel little attraction to creative hobbies and activities, and tend
to stay away from ideas, philosophies, and movements that may look
radical or unconventional. Last but not least, supporters of Berlusconi’s
party scored lower in honesty-humility. Lower scores on this scale are
indicative of persons that recall the trait of Machiavellianism: they are
probably disposed to flatter others to get what they want from them.
Breaking rules for personal profit is not a problem for low scorers in
honesty-humility. They are primarily motivated by material gain and feel
a strong sense of self-importance.
As for the value systems, it is apparent that these differences in traits
between voters are in harmony with the lively, active, enterprising, status-
oriented spirit of the Italian right wing, well represented by its leader
Berlusconi, as opposed to the pluralistic, tolerant, and solidarity- and
culture-oriented character of the Italian left wing. Some voters’ traits
appear also to match well the character of Berlusconi himself and his
public image of being hard working, socially overconfident, and auda¬
cious - anything but modest and unassuming - and inclined to violate
rules and norms by exploiting antagonists in order to gain personal ben¬
efits and advantages.
Rise and decline but no surrender
Since his great electoral success in 2008 (PdL won 37.4% of the votes),
Berlusconi has faced a period of difficulty and decline. In autumn 2010,
a schism within his party began to cause great difficulty for his political
majority in the parliament. From that moment, Berlusconi started to
lose, gradually but inexorably, his political consensus, both in the parlia¬
ment and among his electorate. In May 2011, the right-wing coalition
suffered a major defeat in the local elections. The electoral verdict in
the city of Milan was emblematic. It directly concerned Berlusconi since
he had personally run in the election as a candidate. In the end, his
vote fell by 46.8% from that obtained in the previous city election of
2006 (votes for him fell from 52,577 to 27,972). Under the strain of
economic crisis and international pressures, Berlusconi decided to resign
168
Antonio Chirumbolo and Luigi Leone
Table 9.5 Electoral performance of Berlusconi’s parties in the national
elections since 1 994
Elections
Party
Percentage of votes
Number of votes
1994
Forza Italia (FI)
21.0
8,136,135
1996
Forza Italia (FI)
20.6
7,712,149
2001
Forza Italia (FI)
29.4
10,921,335
2006
Forza Italia (FI)
23.7
9,045,384
2008
Popolo delle Liberta (PdL)
37.4
13,628,865
2013
Popolo delle Liberta (PdL)
22.3
6,829,135
as prime minister in December 2011 since he was no no longer able to
ensure a political majority within the parliament.
Surprisingly, in December 2012, Berlusconi decided to run also in the
national elections of 2013 as the major candidate of the PdL. Shortly
after this announcement, Berlusconi’s party, which opinion polls had
predicted would receive 15% of the votes, started to regain some of the
consensus it had lost, and in this last election, his party got an unexpected
22.3% of the votes. That means, however, that its share of the vote had
decreased by 15.1% (falling from 37.4% in the 2008 election to 22.3%)
and the number of its votes had fallen from 13,628,865 to 7,332,121. In
2013, after he had been almost 20 years in the political arena, Berlusconi’s
electoral consensus was at its minimum in absolute terms of votes (see
Table 9.5).
Nevertheless, despite this clear electoral defeat, Berlusconi was not
perceived as being overthrown. Nowadays he still appears to be far from
being out of the political scene. This is, firstly, because this result was
by far better than all the analysts had expected before the election; and,
secondly, because of the relatively poor performance of the center-left
party (PD),3 - and partly also because of the unexpected electoral success
of the new party, the “Five Star Movement.” In an audacious electoral
campaign, Berlusconi managed to bring his party back from near oblivion
by restyling himself as an antiestablishment and antiausterity populist,
and by promising to refund the homeownership tax, even offering to use
his personal fortune to do so (cf. “Italy chooses none of the above,”
2013).
5
The PD obtained an absolute majority of the parliamentary seats only in the lower house
(the House of Deputies), but not in the Senate.
Those who supported Berlusconi
169
Why have people continued to support Berlusconi
over the years?
One of the most intriguing questions, often asked by international polit¬
ical commentators, is why Berlusconi has enjoyed such a long polit¬
ical career and such electoral success despite his disregard of elec¬
toral promises, his prosecution by justice officers, and gossip about his
immoral conduct. For many years, the scandals and the trials involving
Berlusconi did not appreciably affect his popularity among the right-wing
electorate. Only at the very end was this support noticeably reduced.
However it has not completely faded yet, as the last national elections
held in 2013 showed. This is a puzzling phenomenon for many interna¬
tional analysts who “have a hard time understanding why a media mogul
who led Italy to the brink of bankruptcy in 2011, who is accused of tax
fraud, Mafia associations, exploiting underage prostitutes and miscon¬
duct in public office, still manages to compete head to head in national
elections” (Giumelli and Maneschi, 2013). Paradoxically, Berlusconi’s
strategic position on the conservative side is possibly even stronger, in
view of the failure of conservative alternatives, and the weakening of its
long-time ally, the Northern League.
The reasons for this phenomenon are certainly many and very complex
indeed. One speculation is that Berlusconi’s personal wealth, as one of
the richest men in Italy, and his mass-media holdings (e.g., television
stations, daily newspapers, magazines) have given him, since the 1980s,
great influence and power in almost all aspects of Italian economic and
political life. Hence, Berlusconi could persistently pursue and achieve
his political and personal goals over the years, and remain on the wave
crest despite the fact that he was politically defeated more than once.
However, this alone is not sufficient to fully understand and account
for Berlusconi’s success. The most crucial factor may be, instead, his
ability to match his political communication and populist claims to the
expectations and psychological needs of his followers.
One of the main reasons why many people have supported Berlus¬
coni is mostly ideological in nature. As we noted, the largest part of his
electorate hold typically right-wing beliefs and values and would never
support or vote for the left-wing party, which they consider “the enemy”
and “the evil.” Besides that, a large number of people and certain social
strata have, of course, directly benefited from his political victories. Since
1994, in fact, Berlusconi has nurtured a broad constituency among busi¬
nessmen, shopkeepers, the liberal professions, and entrepreneurs who
have benefited from lax government regulations, remission of taxes, and
the like.
170
Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone
Berlusconi is perceived as the only true representative of the traditional
values of the right. Historically, moreover, Italian voters have always been
attracted by the strong man, the charismatic leader, who can straightfor¬
wardly solve the country’s problems (Giumelli and Maneschi, 2013).
The example of fascism and Mussolini is in that regard very self-evident.
We noted that Berlusconi’s supporters fervently long for an autocratic
and powerful leader. The psychological underpinnings of this standpoint
can be found in their higher authoritarianism (e.g., social conformity and
obedience to authority), lower openness, and higher need for security.
At the same time, Berlusconi’s supporters are driven by standards of
self-enhancement, power, achievement, and status seeking, whose psy¬
chological bases can be traced to their lower humility and higher SDO.
In this regard, they do not appear very different from right-wing voters
in other countries. However, as noted before, Berlusconi has shown him¬
self able to perfectly provide and fulfill these psychological instances in a
populist and effective fashion, as no other political leader has apparently
had the gift to do. Opponents and analysts that have often stigmatized
Berlusconi’s inclination to break the rules of democracy did not take into
account that his electorate was entirely behind this behavior. If anything,
the fact that Berlusconi was finally unable to exert this sort of autocratic
leadership can, to a certain extent, explain his loss of consensus among
his electorate in the final months of his last government.
Berlusconi always depicted the rise and coming to power of the “com¬
munist” left as fatal and disastrous - a real threat to freedom and to all
Italian society. He has continually claimed to be the only leader able to
prevent this. This harping on the “communist threat” has characterized
Berlusconi’s political discourse in the last twenty years. This theme was
pivotal even in the last electoral campaign, and he has constantly aimed to
arouse feelings of fear, uncertainty, and insecurity among his electorate
by warning of a future of unemployment, poverty, high taxes, lack of
individual freedom, social disruption, and threat to the traditional way of
life. It is well known that these perceptions of uncertainty, fear, and inse¬
curity are epistemic motivations connected to conservative ideology (see,
e.g., Jost et al ., 2003). When such situations that evoke threat and fear
are primed, they may cause a real shift of the electorate towards right-
wing political beliefs (Nail and McGregor, 2009), even among those
that define themselves as “liberals” (Nail, McGregor, Drinkwater et al .,
2009).
In this respect, Berlusconi’s voters (vs. left-wing voters) usually
have lower epistemic motivations, scoring higher on the need for clo¬
sure and authoritarianism (Chirumbolo, 2002; Chirumbolo and Leone,
2008) and lower on openness (Caprara et al ., 1999; Chirumbolo and
Those who supported Berlusconi
171
Leone, 2010). Thus they appear to be particularly receptive to all these
invocations of threat. From a psychological point of view, this means that,
in summary, they tend to conform more to conventional ideas and behav¬
iors; to uncritically trust authority and leaders; to blame and devalue
out-groups; to prefer simplicity to complexity; to desire stability, order,
and predictability; to be less motivated to analyze information deeply;
and to prefer the known and the established to the unknown and the
radical. Accordingly, at least in part, these might also be the “psycho¬
logical” reasons why the largest part of the right-wing electorate keeps
supporting Berlusconi despite the fact that, in most cases, his promises
are never kept, and his ideological claims never translate into real life.
Even though his arguments and communication strategy have lost part
of their efficacy over the years, Berlusconi has shown that he can rely on
“hard-core” supporters who will always vote for him, no matter what he
does. These hard-core followers represent one-fifth of the eligible voters
at the minimum, and they appear to be fascinated by the charismatic
figure of a leader who is reassuring and promises progress and prosperity
for all, finding this “strong man” attractive even when he cuts corners in
the democratic process. The attractiveness of this “strong man” figure
is not only determined by submissive authoritarians but also composed
to some extent of a genuine identification with the leader. In this sense,
the lack of a charismatic, authoritative challenger is another reason for
Berlusconi’s enduring success (Giumelli and Maneschi, 2013). Actually,
it is evident that, in recent years, no other Italian political leader of either
the right or the left has been able to attract mass consensus for such a
long time as has Berlusconi.
Finally, Berlusconi’s trials and scandals appeared to have eroded, but
not completely eclipsed, his popularity. How could this be? An explana¬
tion may be provided by one of the most important personality predictors
of political voting - namely, honesty-humility (see also Chirumbolo and
Leone, 2010). As a political candidate, Berlusconi is often rated as hav¬
ing more leadership and innovativeness but less integrity and reliability
than, for instance, his competitor, Prodi. This would indicate that vot¬
ers are sufficiently aware that Berlusconi is not a champion of integrity.
Considering that Berlusconi’s supporters typically score lower on the
honesty-humility factor, we could also speculate that possibly the moral
sphere is not the primary dimension on which the right-wing electorate
are apt to evaluate Berlusconi and his suitability as a candidate, other
dimensions being more important. Therefore, to some extent, scandals
and trials have not decreased his popularity too much. Many Italians
clearly do not like him because of his unethical and often immoral con¬
duct. However, many people are still sympathetic to him, or simply do
172
Antonio Chirmnbolo and Luigi Leone
not care, so that this disapproval has not fatally damaged him in political
terms. Why? Individuals with lower scores for honesty-humility tend to
be lower in sincerity, fairness, and modesty, and see increased opportu¬
nities for personal gain from the exploitation of others. Moreover, low-
honesty-humility individuals are also higher in Machiavellianism, and
that means higher in manipulativeness, mendaciousness, and callous¬
ness (Lee and Ashton, 2005). Violating rules is perceived as legitimate
if necessary to pursue one’s own goals. Probably, Berlusconi’s follow¬
ers strongly identify with their successful leader, considering him simply
“smarter” than other people. They would possibly act in the same way if
they were in his place - a matter of “elective affinity.”
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199-221.
10 A growing confidence gap in politics?
Data versus discourse
Rudy B. Andeweg
By almost any measure, public confidence and trust in, and support
for, politicians, political parties, and political institutions has eroded
over the past generation. (Dalton, 2004, p. 191)
I use the word “erosion” deliberately. This word seems to best express
the phenomenon of mistrust in advanced democracies. The words dis¬
illusion, disenchantment, malaise, used by some authors, seem insuffi¬
cient to describe it. On the contrary, the words crisis, delegitimization
and pathology, used by some observers, seem excessive.
(Dogan, 2005, p. 12)
The most interesting phenomenon, however, is the strength and tenacity
of the policy discourse on a decline in citizens’ trust in the public sector.
The indicators do not show a decline in public trust in the public
sector, yet it is quite generally believed by policy-makers there is such a
decline. (van de Walle, van Roosbroek, and Bouckaert, 2008, pp. 61—2)
[PJublic support for the political system has not eroded consistently in
established democracies, not across a wide range of countries around
the world. The “crisis” myth, while fashionable, exaggerates the extent
of political disaffection and too often falls into the dangers of fact-free
hyperbole. (Norris, 2011, p. 241)
A growing gap between citizens and politicians?
The long-term expansion of government responsibilities has not
kept pace with governments’ capacity to perform, and the resulting
“overload” is fueling citizens’ disaffection with an ineffective public sec¬
tor. The post-war education boom has turned gullible and deferential
I am indebted to the European Commission for access to the results of the Eurobarometer
surveys 1 (spring 1974) to 77 (spring 2012), and to the European Social Survey and the
Norwegian Social Science Data Services for access to the data of ESS Rounds 1 (2002,
edition 6.3), 2 (2004, edition 3.3), 3 (2006, edition 3.4), 4 (2008, edition 4.1), and 5
(2010, edition 3.0). I thank Jacques Thomassen, Joop van Holsteyn, and the editors of this
volume for their comments and suggestions.
176
A growing confidence gap in politics?
177
subjects into politically sophisticated and critical citizens, who easily
see through politicians’ empty promises. The end of the Cold War has
deprived us of a deterrent alternative, finally allowing us to focus on
the shortcomings of our own political authorities. The alleged causes
and their timing may vary, but it is hard to find a democratic country
where political pundits and politicians have not commented recently on
“a legitimacy crisis,” “a Politikverdrossenheit,” “a democratic malaise,” or
“a widening confidence gap.”
This confidence gap between citizens and politics surfaces at least as
regularly in political commentaries as the elusive Loch Ness Monster
used to in other sections of the newspapers. To a certain extent the
gap is more real than the monster. It is an inevitable side effect of any
representative democracy. Etymologically, “‘representation’ means ‘re¬
presentation,’ a making present of something absent - but not making
it literally present. It must be made present indirectly, through an inter¬
mediary; it must be present in some sense, while nevertheless remaining
literally absent” (Pitkin, 1969, p. 16). This ambiguity creates a tension
between the principal and the agent and, in that sense, representation pre¬
supposes a gap. Ever since Edmund Burke and John Stuart Mill, political
philosophers have debated the appropriate distance between citizens and
their representatives. In addition, representative politics is competitive:
elections produce winners and losers, and voters on the losing side obvi¬
ously have less confidence in the new government than those who voted
for the winners - a point to which I shall return. The issue, therefore,
is not whether a confidence gap exists, but whether the gap has been
widening in recent decades.
Only a small number of empirical studies claim that this is indeed
the case. Mair (2006) presents time-series data in support of his claim
that “citizens are heading for the exits of the national political arena”
(p. 44) : declining party membership, declining turnout at elections, and
increasing ticket-splitting (i.e., voting for different parties when elections
for different offices are held at the same time) and volatility (i.e., voting
for different parties in consecutive elections) in Western Europe. The
trends, especially since the 1980s, are not in dispute, although the drops
in turnout in national elections are still modest, and although there are
exceptions (such as party membership rates in relatively young democ¬
racies). The interpretation of these trends as symptoms of citizen disil¬
lusionment, however, is questionable. Inferring motives from behavior is
never straightforward, and here alternative explanations seem to be more
plausible.
Political parties, for example, are not the only organizations losing
members: trade unions, churches, service clubs, etc., are all suffering the
178 Rudy B. Andeweg
same fate. There is a general trend of individualization affecting political
and nonpolitical organizations indiscriminately. With regard to declining
voter turnout, often cited as a symptom of the confidence gap, it appears
that the group of hard-core nonvoters, who never vote, is quite small. We
find many more occasional nonvoters, and the reasons that they them¬
selves offer for their abstention vary greatly, from nonpolitical reasons
(forgot; lost voter registration card; had illness; was abroad) to political
reasons (wasted vote, i.e., the party of preference stands no chance in
the voter’s electoral district; lack of importance of election, etc.). What
seems to emerge is that modern (individualized and better-educated)
voters are making a deliberate decision to participate or to abstain on
the basis of what is at stake and what is on offer. Elections for the Euro¬
pean Parliament, for example, are widely perceived as “second-order
elections,” which do not decide the composition of any government, and
in which there are no great differences between the parties. As a conse¬
quence, turnout in European elections is considerably lower than turnout
in national elections, although at that level sizeable fluctuations can be
observed, depending on the closeness and perceived importance of the
election. It is even less clear why increasing volatility and ticket-splitting
point to disengagement of citizens. Mair argues that “inconsistency goes
hand in hand with indifference” (2006, p. 38), but in many countries
the ideological and sociological differences between political parties are
fading, making it increasingly hard for voters to make a choice - and at
the same time making it easier to make a different choice in different elec¬
tions. In addition, the decline of voter loyalty can be seen as yet another
consequence of individualization, in which voters are freed of their sub¬
cultural shackles (of social class or church) and start to make their own
choices, with or without the assistance of voter aid applications.
Others look at attitudes rather than behavior. Dogan (2005) speaks of
an “erosion of confidence in thirty European countries,” but he offers
only cross-sectional, not longitudinal, data (from the third wave of the
European Values Study, 1999-2000) as “evidence” of a decline of con¬
fidence in political institutions, political parties, and politicians. The
strongest case for a long-term erosion of public support for politics is
presented by Dalton (2004; also see Putnam, Pharr, and Dalton, 2000).
Survey questions in the American National Election Study on whether
the government can be trusted to make the right decisions, whether offi¬
cials care about ordinary people, and whether government actions benefit
all, all show a downward trend since 1958. No data points are available
before 1958, but, if we assume that 1958 represents not a peak but the
edge of a plateau, there is an unmistakable secular decline until the late
1970s, after which the figures show trendless fluctuation. Unfortunately,
A growing confidence gap in politics?
179
such a long time-series of truly comparable survey data is exceptional,
and for other countries than the USA we only have sporadic evidence
pre-dating the 1970s. In most countries, reliable time-series start only in
the late 1960s and early 1970s and show ups and downs but no consis¬
tent trend, as do the American data for that period. It is to that period,
roughly speaking 1970 to 2010, that comparative studies of political trust
must confine themselves.
Distinguishing democratic regime, institutions, and
political actors
So far, I have left the conceptualization rather vague. One of the prob¬
lems with a concept such as the “confidence gap” is that people can
interpret it in very different ways and still agree that it exists and is grow¬
ing. Such different interpretations can even be contradictory: political
alienation, indifference, lack of political interest, and political apathy all
point to a withdrawal of citizens from political life, whereas political skep¬
ticism, radicalization, contestation, and protest behavior rather indicate
a critical commitment to politics (Schedler, 1993). A lot of effort has
been put into disentangling various concepts, and developing distinct
operationalizations for them. Political trust has been distinguished from
political efficacy, and within political efficacy two dimensions have been
discerned: internal political efficacy, where the belief that one can play
a meaningful political role is founded either on self-confidence (“People
like me have no influence over government policies”) or on confidence
in the responsiveness of the political system (“Members of Parliament
are not interested in the opinions of ordinary people like me”). Some of
these conceptually different variables appear to be highly interrelated, but
the more practical problem is that in studying trends over time, we have
to make do with the data that are available. The data have in common
that they entail evaluations of the quality of democratic institutions and
politicians, and all we can do is to be aware of the conceptual differences
and the resulting biases that may contaminate our conclusions.
Another problem is that the word “politics” (or “Washington,” “Brus¬
sels,” etc.) is used indiscriminately, without specifying what it is that
people have evaluated positively or negatively. Most analyses follow Eas¬
ton’s (1965) conceptualization of political support as a dimension ranging
from “diffuse” to “specific” support:
Some types of evaluations are closely related to what the political authorities do
and how they do it. Others are more fundamental in character because they are
directed to basic aspects of the system. They represent more enduring bonds and
180 Rudy B. Andeweg
thereby make it possible for members to oppose the incumbents of offices and yet
retain respect for the offices themselves, for the way in which they are ordered,
and for the community of which they are a part. The distinction of roughly this
sort I have called ‘specific’ as against ‘diffuse’ support. (Easton, 1975, p. 437)
Norris, for example, distinguishes five components of political support:
national identity, approval of regime principles (e.g., democratic ideals),
evaluation of regime performance, confidence in regime institutions, and
approval of incumbent officeholders (Norris, 2011, pp. 24-5). For the
purpose of this chapter, I focus on the latter three: the satisfaction with
the functioning of the national democratic system at the most diffuse
level, trust in political institutions at the intermediate level, and trust in
political actors at the most specific level. I have chosen these three levels
primarily because longitudinal and comparative data are available for all
three.
Since 1974, the biannual Eurobarometer survey, commissioned by the
EU Commission in all EU member states, has included the question,
“On the whole, are you very satisfied, fairly satisfied, not very satisfied or
not at all satisfied with the way democracy works in [your country]?” at
least once in most years. This provides us with an unrivalled time-series
spanning almost four decades for eight countries (Belgium, Denmark,
(West) Germany, France, Ireland, Italy, Luxembourg, The Netherlands,
and the UK), and shorter periods for a further eighteen countries.
If we take all respondents from all EU member states together, the
percentage reporting “very satisfied” fluctuates around 8% with about
40% saying that they are “fairly” satisfied with the working of democracy
in their own country. As the ratio between these two answering categories
is relatively constant, I have combined the two into a single percentage
as “satisfied.” Figure 10.1 shows an almost imperceptible increase in sat¬
isfaction with democratic functioning until autumn 1991, followed by a
slump and a regaining of the previous high point in spring 1999. After
autumn 2007, we witness another slow decline. We end the four decades
with 5 1 % of Europeans satisfied with the functioning of democracy, 3
percentage points higher than at the start of the time-series, in 1974. This
is remarkable given the fact that the EU has expanded from nine coun¬
tries in 1974 to twenty-seven by 2012 (an additional member state was
added in 2013). The nine countries at the start of the time-series are all
established democracies. The inclusion of East Germany in 1990 and the
enlargements of 2004 and 2007 have added primarily countries in which
democracy is relatively new and not yet institutionalized. The different
degrees of socialization in democratic politics are likely to result in differ¬
ent levels of satisfaction with the working of national democracy. Indeed,
A growing confidence gap in politics?
181
Figure 10.1 Satisfaction with the functioning of national democracy in
EU member states, 1974-2012. Source: Eurobarometer. “S” denotes
the spring survey of that year, “A” the autumn survey of that year for
Figures 10.1-10.3.
there is considerable variation with Denmark, in 2012, showing most
satisfaction (87%) and Greece least satisfaction (15%). Denmark is fol¬
lowed closely by Sweden, Luxembourg, The Netherlands, and Finland.
Greece is accompanied by Lithuania, Romania, Bulgaria, Portugal, and
Hungary. Italy is the only country of the original member states show¬
ing a low satisfaction rate (27%). Because of the sizeable cross-country
variation, two countries for which we have the complete time-series have
been added to Figure 10.1: The Netherlands (high satisfaction) and Italy
(low satisfaction). For The Netherlands, we see a clear upward trend
in satisfaction with the functioning of democracy, from 52% satisfied
in 1978 to 78% satisfied in 2012. There are considerable fluctuations
around the trend line, but even the dip in satisfaction during “the long
year 2002” (the rise of the populist leader Pirn Fortuyn and his assas¬
sination, followed by government instability) was still above the level of
1974. Satisfaction with the functioning of Italian democracy shows even
more fluctuation. The satisfaction rate in 2012 is exactly the same as that
in 1974, but, despite the recent decline, here too the trend line over the
whole period is upward. We see considerable variation between countries
(higher satisfaction in established democracies and in countries with pro¬
portional representation: Aarts and Thomassen, 2008), and fluctuation
over time, but the Eurobarometer data on satisfaction with the func¬
tioning of national democracy provide no support for the hypothesis of
growing dissatisfaction with democratic politics.
There is a caveat attached to that conclusion. One of the problems with
the survey question about satisfaction with the functioning of democracy
182 Rudy B. Andeweg
is that it may not be interpreted literally by respondents, but may, rather,
measure satisfaction with the incumbent government. In particular, there
is a risk that respondents who have voted for a governing party are more
satisfied than respondents who voted for a party that ended up on the opp¬
osition benches. In July 1987, half of the national samples in the Euro¬
barometer were asked a different question: “Some people are for the
present government in [your country]. Others are against it. Putting aside
whether you are for or against the present government, on the whole, are
you very satisfied, fairly satisfied, not very satisfied, or not at all satisfied
with the way democracy works in [your country].” The two questions
did not produce significantly different results (Andeweg, 1996, p. 161).
However, in 1986, the EU consisted of mostly well-established democ¬
racies. Later studies found a considerable “winner-loser gap” in the new
democracies in Central and Eastern Europe (Anderson et al., 2005, pp.
90-119; Linde and Ekman, 2003). The effect on satisfaction of having
voted for the incumbent governing parties or not has also been found
to be larger in majoritarian democracies than in consensus democracies,
consistent with the fact that in the former type of democracy a change
of incumbents often marks a wholesale shift in policy (Anderson and
Guillory 1997; Anderson, Blais, Bowler et al., 2005, pp. 120-40; but see
Norris, 201 1, pp. 209-13). The gap is also larger in countries that have
been governed by the same party for a prolonged period of time: repeated
losing corrodes support (Anderson et al., 2005, pp. 60-5). In general,
however, the size of the difference in satisfaction between winners and
losers is relatively stable. If it had grown over the past decades, that would
have been a sign of a widening confidence gap, but there is no sign of
that.
As we move from diffuse support to specific support, the impact of the
winner-loser gap on the confidence in political institutions and actors
is likely to be stronger. Since 1997, the Eurobarometer survey has reg¬
ularly included the question, “I would like to ask you a question about
how much trust you have in certain institutions. For each of the fol¬
lowing institutions, please tell me if you tend to trust it or tend not
to trust it.” One of the political institutions of which this question is
asked is the national government, but in that context it may just as easily
be interpreted as trust in the governing parties or politicians. For that
reason I have opted for trust in the national parliament (see also van
der Meer and Dekker, 2011, p. 97). It seems more likely that respon¬
dents have this institution in mind when reporting trust or mistrust, but
as parliament is composed in large part of politicians from parties for
which the respondent did not vote, the question may be underestimating
trust. For the USA in particular, it has been found that citizens distrust
A growing confidence gap in politics?
183
Figure 10.2 Trust in the national parliament in EU member states,
1997-2012. Source: Eurobarometer.
Congress, while trusting their own congressman (I return to the distinc¬
tion between individuals composing a category and the category itself
below). This may help explain why in twenty-one of the twenty-seven EU
member states in 20 1 2, more people distrusted than trusted their national
parliament.
In Figure 10.2, we present the development in the percentage that
tends to trust parliament from 1997 to 2012 for the EU as such, and
for The Netherlands and Italy. Unfortunately, there are gaps in the time-
series, most notably from 1997 to 1999, but it would seem that for
the EU member states taken together, trust in parliaments remained
relatively stable until 2003, and declined slightly in the following decade.
This decline is largely due to the enlargement of the EU, many of the
new member states showing low confidence in the newly democratized
parliaments: Lithuania (7% trust in 2012), the Czech Republic (9%
trust), and Latvia (12% trust), etc. At the other end of the spectrum,
we find Sweden leading the confidence tables with 70% tending to trust
184 Rudy B. Andeweg
parliament, and most of the established West European democracies well
above the EU average.
This is not the whole explanation, however, as Italy, a founding mem¬
ber of the EU and an established democracy, had the EU’s second lowest
percentage of trust in parliament in 2012 (8%). Confidence in parlia¬
ment in Italy had increased slightly to about the EU average, but in
2007 and, in particular, in 2011, it started to fall away. It is likely that
the combination of political scandal and financial crisis, culminating in
the appointment of the technocratic Monti cabinet in November 2011,
has negatively affected trust in the Italian parliament as a democratic
institution. At least, if we compare the Italian development with trust in
parliament in The Netherlands, we see a pronounced dip during “the
long year 2002,” but the subsequent recovery has restored confidence
in the Dutch parliament to just below the previous level. Of the fifteen
member states for which we have the complete time-series, seven showed
more trust in 2012 than in 1997, and eight showed a decline in trust.
The most substantial increases in confidence in parliament are regis¬
tered in Belgium (+26 percentage points) and Sweden (+22 percentage
points); the largest declines are found in Greece (-39 percentage points)
and Spain (-37 percentage points). The UK presents the clearest case
of eroding confidence in parliament in a well-established democracy: the
percentage trusting parliament was halved from 46% in 1997 to 23% in
2012. This is likely to be related to several scandals such as the cash-for-
questions affair (which started earlier, but culminated in a report on Stan¬
dards in Public Life in 1997) and the parliamentary expenses scandal in
2009.
Controlling for composition effects (such as countries having different
average education levels), the variation in trust in parliament among
countries is in large part explained by the same factors that account for
satisfaction with the functioning of democracy: the age of the democratic
system (the older the more trust), the electoral system (proportional
representation engendering more trust), and corruption (the less the
more trust). Curiously, economic performance has little impact on trust
in parliament (van der Meer, 2010).
The pattern is clearly less positive than with regard to satisfaction with
the working of democracy, but the fluctuations and differences between
countries point more towards rational evaluations of specific circum¬
stances than towards a secular and overall decline of trust in the national
parliament.
Finally, we turn to the most specific form of political support: trust
in political actors. Note that we also shift from the singular (the demo¬
cratic system, the national parliament) to the plural (parties, politicians).
A growing confidence gap in politics?
185
In elections, citizens are asked to distinguish between several political
actors, whereas, unfortunately, all trust indicators treat them as a single
category or political class. People are bound to trust some parties and
politicians more and others less, and it is unknown how this affects their
replies to survey questions about confidence in a whole category of politi¬
cal actors. It is most likely that the judgment of a category is more negative
than the judgment of an individual representing that category would be.
This is what Sears refers to as the “person-positivity bias” (Sears, 1983),
but we do not know whether the distinction is between categories and real
human beings, as Sears suggests, or between categories and those indi¬
vidual elements (humans or organizations such as parties) to which one
is ideologically close (Nilsson and Ekehammar, 1987). All we can hope
for is that whatever bias results from the inadequate question wording
is a constant, and does not affect any development over time. A second
problem is that we lack truly comparable data over an extended period of
time for individual politicians. Such data are available for trust in polit¬
ical parties. In most European countries, political parties dominate the
political arena. Despite the widespread impression of a “personalization”
of electoral politics, the impact of party still outweighs that of the party
leader or individual candidates in determining the voter’s choice (e.g.,
Karvonen, 2010).
From Figure 10.3 it is clear that trust in political parties as a category
of political actors is quite low in EU member states with an EU average
of 18% expressing confidence in 2012. Although other social organiza¬
tions occasionally elicited less trust in a particular country when this was
measured (in particular, religious organizations and big companies), in
all countries for most of the time the lowest percentages of trust were reg¬
istered for political parties. The variation is considerable, however, with
the proportion of the population trusting political parties in 2012 rang¬
ing from 42% in Denmark and Sweden to a mere 4% in Italy. Trust in
parties is generally low in the newly democratized member states, where
the legacy of party dictatorship is likely to have affected the reputation
of parties generally. It is less clear why the percentage trusting parties is
also lower than the European average in the UK (15% in 2012). For our
purpose, the development of confidence in political parties over time is
more important and here we see fluctuation but no clear downward trend
in the fifteen years for which we have data. Again, The Netherlands (as
an example of relatively high trust) and Italy (as an example of relatively
low trust) are included. The ups and downs in these individual countries
seem more related to political events (the 2002 dip in The Netherlands,
the downward slide in recent years in Italy) than to any long-term change
in the evaluation of political parties as such.
186 Rudy B. Andeweg
Figure 10.3 Trust in political parties in EU member states, 1997-2012.
Source: Eurobarometer.
For eight of the fifteen countries for which we have measurements for
the entire time period, trust in parties was more widespread in 2012 than
it was in 1997, with substantial increases of more than 20 percentage
points in countries such as Belgium, Finland, and Sweden. The largest
drops between 1997 and 2012 were registered in Greece (13 percentage
points) and Italy (9 percentage points).
Even if political parties are the primary political actors in most modern
democracies, it may be argued that trust in organizations such as parties
is not the same thing as trust in real human beings such as politicians. The
European Social Survey has included identical questions about trust in
political parties and trust in politicians in five waves of surveys in various
European countries between 2002 and 2010: “Using this card, please
tell me on a score of 0-10 how much you personally trust each of the
institutions I read out. ‘0’ means you do not trust an institution at all,
and TO’ means you have complete trust.” The two variables appear to
be strongly correlated (Pearson’s r is .885** in the 2010 survey): “The
mean value of, and the variance in, trust in political parties and trust in
politicians are indeed very similar, which could indicate that citizens do
A growing confidence gap in politics?
187
n - r
2004
"i - r
2006
n - r
2008
2002
2010
■16 countries - Netherlands
■ Germany
Figure 10.4 Trust in politicians in sixteen European countries, 2002-
10. Source: European Social Survey.
not make a distinction between political parties and politicians” (Marien,
2011, p. 19). Figure 10.4 presents the development of mean trust in
politicians in the sixteen European countries in which the European
Social Survey has been held all five times.1 As Italy is not among these
countries, Germany replaces Italy in Figure 10.4 as the example of a
low-trust country.
The mean score for trust in politicians in these countries is at or just
below 4 on an 1 1 -point scale. Again, we find the familiar pattern of vari¬
ation. The highest mean trust was registered in Denmark in 2006 and
2008 (5.61), with The Netherlands, Switzerland, Sweden, Norway, and
Finland also showing comparatively high levels of trust. The lowest mean
trust for these sixteen countries was found in Poland in 2004 (1 .92), with
Portugal, Slovenia, and Hungary displaying only marginally higher trust.
Of the established democracies, levels of trust are lowest in Germany,
the UK, and France. The European Social Survey spans a relatively
short period, but, for what it is worth, there is no overall decline of trust
in politicians in these nine years. The Netherlands even shows a mod¬
est upward trend, but this is exceptional and may simply represent the
1 Belgium, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Fiungary, Ireland, The Netherlands,
Norway, Poland, Portugal, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, and the UK.
188 Rudy B. Andeweg
recovery after the dip in 2002 that we see in most trust-related variables
for The Netherlands.
Within-country variation
So far, this chapter has focused on differences in political trust between
levels (highest for the democratic regime, lowest for political actors)
over time (fluctuation but no secular downward trend), and in partic¬
ular across countries (lower in young democracies, and in countries with
a majoritarian rather than a proportional electoral system). The empha¬
sis on between-country variation follows from the fact that the politi¬
cal institutions, parties, and politicians operate primarily at the national
level. However, within-country variation in political trust is higher than
between-country variation as the example of trust in parliament shows
(Figure 10.5; also see Rose and Mishler, 2011, p. 125).
The difference in trust between those who voted for the incum¬
bent government and those who voted for one of the parties in oppo¬
sition has already been mentioned. There is less evidence of a more
broadly defined winner-loser gap in terms of higher levels of trust among
dominant social groups (but see Zmerli and Newton, 2011). For exam¬
ple, among respondents in the twenty-seven countries that were included
in the 2010 European Social Survey,2 noncitizens and, to a lesser extent,
members of ethnic minorities show similar or even higher mean trust in
parliament, parties, and politicians (Table 10.1). Female respondents do
show slightly lower levels of political trust than males but the difference
is very small, and it is even reversed in some countries. The clearest
indication of a difference between less advantaged and more advantaged
people in terms of political trust is related to an individual’s socioeco¬
nomic position. The less educated are less trustful of political institutions
and actors than the better educated. The difference between the mean
score for trust in parliament among respondents with the lowest level
of education (lower than secondary education) and respondents with
the highest level (master’s degree and higher) is 0.79 point on an 11-
point scale; for trust in parties this difference is 0.49, and for trust in
politicians 0.58. However, the lowest level of trust is not found among
the lowest educated, but halfway on the scale (4: upper tier, upper
secondary education), and the highest trust is not found among the
Belgium, Bulgaria, Croatia, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Finland,
France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Ireland, Israel, Lithuania, The Netherlands, Nor¬
way, Poland, Portugal, Russia, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Ukraine,
and the UK.
2
A growing confidence gap in politics?
189
10.00
8.00
6.00
4.00
2.00
0.00
NB: o = mean trust; error bar = standard deviation;
Figure 10.5 Variation in trust in Parliament within and across twenty-
seven countries, 2010. Source: European Social Survey 5, 2010.
n — i — i — i — i — i — i — i — r
i — — r .
cfo* era* h-'
n r
Z Z
1 r-
C/3 C/3
i %
5
O O ffi
C
3
3 — £ CT>
(i o 2, 2 c
C« 2 < <
<; j_> *— >— • Q- n> C5
to p, HQ B (1 3
highest educated but just below, among those with a BA-level educa¬
tion). Moreover, in nearly half of the countries, the category with the
lowest level of education is actually more trustful than their compatriots
with the highest level of education. There are many new democracies
among the countries with this reverse pattern, but also a few estab¬
lished democracies such as Germany and Switzerland. The evidence of
a winner-loser gap is stronger if we compare those with paid work to
those who are unemployed or disabled; the mean score on trust in parlia¬
ment is 0.81 lower among the unemployed, mean trust in parties is 0.56
lower, and mean trust in politicians is 0.63 lower. And although there are
countries with different patterns even here, the number of exceptions is
quite small.
190 Rudy B. Andeweg
Table 10.1 Demographic correlates of political trust (mean trust on a scale
from 0 to 10)
Trust in parliament
Trust in parties
Trust in politicians
Citizen
No
4.71 (2.68)
3.78 (2.48)
3.85 (2.58)
[1,812]
[1,823]
[1,864]
Yes
3.81 (2.59)
3.12 (2.36)
3.12 (2.38)
Ethnic minority
[49,066]
[49,041]
[49,286]
Yes
3.8 (2.82)
3.18 (2.58)
3.18 (2.6)
[2,982]
[2,985]
[3,022]
No
3.87 (2.59)
3.15 (2.35)
3.15 (2.38)
Gender
[46,685]
[46,686]
[46,923]
Female
3.75 (2.55)
3.11 (2.35)
3.13 (2.38)
[27,595]
[27,596]
[27,784]
Male
3.96 (2.66)
3.17 (2.38)
3.15 (2.41)
Level of education
[23,285]
[23,267]
[23,368]
Lowest
3.54 (2.66)
2.86 (2.47)
2.88 (2.53)
[6,433]
[6,484]
[6,532]
2
3.73 (2.59)
3.19 (2.42)
3.15 (2.45)
[8,658]
[8,659]
[8,731]
3
3.84 (2.51)
3.22 (2.31)
3.21 (2.37)
[7,372]
[7,395]
[7,433]
4
3.53 (2.55)
2.87 (2.31)
2.84 (2.32)
[11,597]
[11,568]
[11,616]
5
3.97 (2.61)
3.26 (2.31)
3.27 (2.35)
[6,205]
[6,180]
[6,220]
6
4.47 (2.56)
3.57 (2.34)
3.6 (2.33)
[4,587]
[4,577]
[4,588]
Highest
4.33 (2.63)
3.35 (2.32)
3.46 (2.34)
Employment
[5,806]
[5,779]
[5,808]
Paid work
4.0 (2.57)
3.2 (2.33)
3.21 (2.35)
[23,585]
[23,590]
[23,677]
Unemployed/
3.19 (2.54)
2.64 (2.32)
2.58 (2.33)
disabled
[4,806]
[4,823]
[4,853]
Retired
3.71 (2.65)
3.1 (2.42)
3.14 (2.46)
[13,620]
[13,526]
[13,632]
Other
4.0 (2.58)
3.31 (2.39)
3.26 (2.41)
Age
[8,750]
[8,811]
[8,873]
Up to 24
4.13 (2.56)
3.47 (2.38)
3.36 (2.39)
[6,162]
[6,234]
[6,284]
25-34
3.77 (2.55)
3.03 (3.32)
2.99 (2.33)
[7,485]
[7,507]
[7,537]
191
A growing confidence gap in politics?
Table 10.1 ( cont .)
Trust in parliament
Trust in parties
Trust in politicians
35-44
3.83 (2.59)
3.09 (2.34)
3.1 (2.36)
[8,286]
[8,274]
[8,298]
45-54
3.79 (2.61)
3.04 (2.34)
3.05 (2.35)
[8,669]
[8,672]
[8,710]
55-64
3.79 (2.6)
3.06 (2.35)
3.11 (2.39)
[8,630]
[8,601]
[8,647]
65 and over
3.83 (2.66)
3.2 (2.43)
3.25 (2.48)
Religion
[11,669]
[11,596]
[11,696]
None
4.02 (2.56)
3.29 (2.33)
3.27 (2.34)
[18,030]
[18,050]
[18,129]
Roman Catholic
3.57 (2.45)
2.84 (2.24)
2.88 (2.29)
[14,746]
[14,818]
[14,915]
Protestant
5.32 (2.33)
4.5 (2.13)
4.51 (2.16)
[6,003]
[5,986]
[6,019]
Eastern Orthodox
2.82 (2.58)
2.3 (2.34)
2.28 (2.34)
[7,779]
[7,746]
[7,770]
Other
3.87 (2.66)
3.19 (2.44)
3.2 (2.42)
[3,937]
[3,886]
[3,937]
Source: European Social Survey 5, 2010.
( ) = standard deviation; [ ] = N.
Of other demographic correlates of political trust, age has attracted
some attention. If the young were less trustful, and if this could be shown
to be a generation effect rather than a life-cycle effect, we should expect a
widening confidence gap in future. However, Table 10.1 gives no reason
for such concern. Levels of trust are actually highest among those younger
than 25, and although there are several countries where the youngest age
group is less trustful, the differences are quite small.
Curiously, Protestants show substantially higher political trust than
Catholics, the Eastern Orthodox, and nonbelievers. Mean trust in par¬
liament is even 2.5 points (on an 11 -point scale) higher among Protes¬
tants than among the Eastern Orthodox, and 1.75 points higher than
among Roman Catholics. However, we are probably measuring more
between-country than within-country variation here - most Protestants
live in northern European countries where political trust is relatively
high, and most Catholics live in southern or eastern European countries
where political trust tends to be lower. In those countries with sizeable
proportions of both denominations, the difference is marginal: Dutch
Protestants have a mean trust in parliament of 5.47, against 5.41 for
their Catholic compatriots; in Switzerland, this difference is 0.05, and in
192 Rudy B. Andeweg
Germany 0.15. In Germany, mean trust in politicians is 3.59 for both
Protestants and Catholics.
In general, sociodemographic variables are not strongly related to polit¬
ical trust. As Levi and Stoker (2000, p. 481) summarize, “Nearly all
of this research, whatever its specific conclusions, agrees on one point.
Whether citizens express trust or distrust is primarily a reflection of their
political lives, not their personalities nor even their social characteris¬
tics.” However, the relationship between personality (need for structure,
social value orientation, etc.) and political trust has not been studied
extensively. Political trust (whether in parliament, parties, or politicians)
is correlated with generalized interpersonal trust: in the European Social
Surveys, for example, Pearson’s r is around .333** for the correlation
between trust in fellow citizens and trust in politicians in all five sur¬
veys, and it is statistically significant in all countries. This could indicate
that some people simply have a more trusting personality than others,
but the jury is still out on whether social trust spills over into political
trust or, the other way around, trustworthy political institutions facilitate
interpersonal trust (Nannestad, 2008).
From legitimacy crisis to healthy mistrust?
Despite repeated sightings in the popular press, this expedition has failed
yet again to find solid evidence of the political monster of Loch Ness.
Longitudinal data based on a standardized methodology and identical
question wording in several European countries are available with regard
to satisfaction with the working of democracy for 1974 to 2012 (Euro¬
barometer), with regard to trust in parliament and in political parties for
1997 to 2012 (Eurobarometer), and with regard to trust in politicians
(as well as parliament and parties) for 2002-10 (European Social Sur¬
vey). This evidence shows no signs of an overall secular decline in politi¬
cal trust. At least in recent decades, the confidence gap is not widening.
There is considerable variation over time, but it is fluctuation rather than
trend, and also the fact that the young do not show lower trust does not
point to a future widening of the confidence gap because of generational
replacement. There is also considerable variation across countries, and
these two types of variation are largely accounted for by the political real¬
ity in those countries: lower trust in countries where democracy is not
yet fully institutionalized, in countries and at times with high corruption
or political scandal, or in countries where the political system exacer¬
bates the impact of being on the losing side. The variation in trust within
countries is even higher, but this variation is not consistently related to
differences between social groups. There is no evidence of a difference in
A growing confidence gap in politics?
193
political trust between winners and losers in cultural terms (noncitizens,
ethnic minorities, and women do not show substantially lower levels of
trust). There is some evidence of a winner-loser gap in socioeconomic
terms, with the unemployed in particular showing somewhat lower levels
of political trust.
Admittedly, the absolute levels of satisfaction with the functioning of
democracy are not impressive, and trust in parliament, and especially
trust in political parties and politicians, seems quite low. However, the
survey questions leave much to be desired, and the questions pertaining
to trust in parties and politicians as a category probably underestimate
actual levels of trust. Even if we were to accept the absolute levels of polit¬
ical trust as measured by available surveys, it should be remembered that
in competitive democratic politics there will always be winners and losers,
and it would be naive to expect high political trust among supporters of
the losing side in the most recent elections.
It is even argued that high trust is not necessarily a good thing in
a democracy: a certain level of mistrust can be considered healthy as
it prompts citizens to monitor their political representatives closely and
makes political actors aware that they are accountable (e.g., Rosanvallon,
2008). Lenard (2008) argues that this argument is valid only for mistrust
(caution, doubt) which fosters vigilance, not for the closely related con¬
cept of distrust (cynicism, suspicion), which fosters abstention, but this
distinction has not yet been applied in empirical research. Another way
to approach the desirability of political trust is to return to Easton’s
distinction between diffuse and specific support. Low levels of trust in
specific political actors are not problematic as long as they are accom¬
panied by higher levels of trust in democratic institutions: when citizens
mistrust not only the politicians but also the democratic institutions, the
legitimacy of the democratic regime is at stake.
This does not seem to be the case. The 2010 European Social Survey
measures satisfaction with the functioning of democracy on an 1 1 -point
scale, from 0 (“extremely dissatisfied”) to 10 (“extremely satisfied”). A
comparison of the country means on that scale with those for trust in
politicians makes clear that diffuse support is higher than specific support
in each case (Figure 10.6). Strictly speaking, the scale lengths may be
similar, but satisfaction and trust are different concepts. But comparing
mean trust in parliament with mean trust in political parties also shows
that trust at the more diffuse level is higher in all countries included in
the 2010 European Social Survey, and in all but two countries included
in the 2012 Eurobarometer.
In addition, if we return to Table 10.1, there is not a single social group
in the 2010 European Social Survey for which trust in parliament was
194
Rudy B. Andeweg
Figure 10.6 Satisfaction with the working of democracy and trust in
politicians in twenty-seven countries, 2010. Source: European Social
Survey 5, 2010. BE: Belgium; BU: Bulgaria; CH: Switzerland; CY:
Cyprus; CZ: Czech Republic; DE: Germany; DK: Denmark; EE: Esto¬
nia; ES: Spain; FI: Finland; FR: France; GR: Greece; HR: Croatia;
HU: Hungary; IE: Ireland; IL: Israel; LT: Lithuania; NL: Netherlands;
NO: Norway; PL: Poland; PT: Portugal; RU: Russia; SE: Sweden; SI:
Slovenia; SK: Slovakia; UA: Ukraine; UK: United Kingdom.
lower than trust in parties or trust in politicians. European citizens may
not always put their trust in politicians, but even then they have more
trust in the democratic system, in their ability “to vote the rascals out
of office.” What remains to be explained, however, is the tenacity of the
belief in a widening confidence gap undermining our democracies.
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Ill
Paranoia
1 1 Misconnecting the dots: origins
and dynamics of out-group paranoia
Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer
“Germany planned this from the beginning . . . The German dream is
at hand. What they’ve been unable to achieve through guns and tanks,
the unified Germany is about to achieve through austerity and export-
based economic prowess ... As the euro crisis deepens, Germany has
taken on greater and greater power in dictating fiscal policy to euro-zone
states ... If the euro survives, Germany will accomplish what it couldn’t
through blood, sweat and tears. A German continent that serves as a
vehicle for German economic and political interests . . . That’s why, if
the euro survives, you’ll start to hear more of a German conspiracy.
After all, isn’t this what they thought would happen all along?”
Hines (2012, p. 1)
As the quotation above nicely illustrates, perceptions of conspiracy and
malevolent intent readily arise between interdependent social groups,
especially when one group perceives that the actions of another pose
an economic, social, or existential threat. To this point, a consider¬
able body of social-psychological research has documented the preva¬
lence of mutual suspicion and distrust between groups at all levels of
social organization, as well as the ease with which such psychologi¬
cal states can develop. Distrust and suspicion have been observed, for
example, between groups within public and private organizations (Blake
and Mouton, 1986; Lane and Bachman, 1998), between diverse groups
within social communities (Crocker, Luhtanen, Broadmax et al. , 1999;
Pruitt, 1987), and between international groups (Jervis, 1976; Kahn and
Kramer, 1990; Larson, 1997). Whether measured in terms of the seem¬
ingly intractable misunderstandings and social conflicts they engender
(Pruitt, 1987) or the missed opportunities they portend (Larson, 1997),
mutual suspicion and distrust have remained enduring, if unfortunate,
features of many intergroup relations.
The authors express their appreciation to Paul A. M. van Lange for his numerous helpful
editorial comments and suggestions. We are grateful also for the support provided by
the William R. Kimball family in the preparation of this research and for research funds
provided by Stanford University’s Graduate School of Business.
199
200 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer
Given the importance and recurrent nature of this problem, it is not
surprising that social psychologists have sought to explicate the origins
of such suspicion and distrust. One prominent approach to understand¬
ing this problem has focused on analyzing the role “realistic conflict”
plays in the development of suspicion and distrust between social groups
(e.g., Sherif, Harvey, White et al., 1961). One basis for such realistic
conflict is the interdependence groups confront with respect to valuable
but scarce resources, such as land, water, fishing rights, oil, or precious
metals. As Sherif et al. demonstrated in their classic work in this area,
interdependence of this sort can foster intense competition, both real and
perceived, between groups vying for these limited resources. Moreover,
this heightened sense of competition can foster mutual suspicion and
wariness regarding the cooperative motives and ultimate trustworthiness
of the “other side.”
Concerns about relative status and comparative well-being are another
major source of potential misunderstanding and conflict between social
groups, often fostering mutual distrust and suspicion of the other’s
actions and motives (Fiske, 2011; Kramer, 1996). Other streams of
social-psychological research have highlighted the deleterious effects of
basic social cognitive processes, including social categorization and out¬
group derogation, on the development and persistence of intergroup
distrust and suspicion (e.g., Brewer, 1981; Insko and Schopler, 1998;
Kramer 1991).
Each of these perspectives has enlightened scholars on the myriad
sources of potential mistrust and wariness that can arise between inter¬
dependent groups. Although drawing on these previous contributions,
we take a different approach in this chapter to understanding the ori¬
gins of intergroup suspicion and distrust. Specifically, we elaborate on
the role a psychological state we term out-group paranoia plays in the
emergence of distrust and suspicion between social groups. We con¬
ceptualize such paranoia as an extreme form of suspicion and resultant
distrust that arises between groups embedded in a familiar class of sit¬
uations known as hierarchical trust dilemmas. In many trust dilemmas,
the interdependent actors possess fairly equal status or power (e.g., two
young professionals starting a collaborative project at work, but who each
harbor some concerns about the trustworthiness of the other; much of
the previous literature, in fact, has focused exclusively on such relation¬
ships). By contrast, in hierarchical trust dilemmas, an asymmetry exists
with respect to the power or status of one party over the other, the classi¬
cal example being a manager-employee or professor-student relationship
(see Hardin, 2004 and Kramer, 1996 for fuller expositions of the logic
and structure of choice in such dilemmas). The primary aim of our
Misconnecting the dots
201
chapter is to present a framework for conceptualizing the cognitive com¬
ponents and interactional dynamics of intergroup paranoia within such
hierarchical relationships.
We first provide a brief overview of previous social-psychological
research on intergroup distrust and suspicion. We then define more pre¬
cisely what we mean by out-group paranoia, contrasting it with these
earlier conceptions of intergroup distrust and suspicion. We next intro¬
duce the notion of a hierarchical trust dilemma and examine the psy¬
chological, social, and structural factors that influence the emergence of
out-group paranoia in such situations. We conclude by discussing some
implications of our framework and the directions future research on this
topic might take.
Conceptualizing out-group paranoia
In the social sciences, distrust has generally been conceptualized as a psy¬
chological state that reflects individuals’ negative beliefs and pessimistic
expectations regarding the trustworthiness of other individuals or groups
with whom they are interdependent (see Kramer, 1998, 1999 for recent
reviews) . Suspicion has been treated, in turn, as one of the central cogni¬
tive components underlying such negative beliefs and expectations (Fein
and Hilton, 1994; Hilton, Fein, and Miller, 1993).
In much of the early literature, these negative beliefs and pessimistic
expectations were viewed as more or less rational forms of inference,
at least insofar as individuals’ judgments regarding a target’s trustwor¬
thiness were construed as reasonably veridical reflections of their actual
experience with the target. In other words, such beliefs and expecta¬
tions were presumed to be generalizations based on prior experience,
and anchored or grounded in the actual interactional histories of the
groups. For example, the early and influential work in this area of
Rotter (1980) and Lindskold (1978, 1986) conceptualized trust and dis¬
trust as generalized expectancies that are predicated on a specific history
of interaction between interdependent individuals or groups. Boyle and
Bonacich’s (1970) account of trust and distrust development proposed
that expectations about trustworthy or untrustworthy behavior change
“in the direction of experience and to a degree proportional to the differ¬
ence between this experience and the initial expectations applied to it”
(p. 130).
In a similar vein, social-psychological research on suspicion has empha¬
sized that individuals often engage in fairly systematic and sometimes
even quite sophisticated attributional analyses when trying to calibrate
the level of prudent suspicion appropriate in a given situation (e.g., Fein,
202 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer
1996). Viewed in conjunction, these two streams of research paint a
portrait of social perceivers as “intuitive social scientists” (cf. Kelley,
1973) who are motivated to form accurate judgments regarding others’
trustworthiness or lack of trustworthiness on the basis of their actual
experience with them.
While recognizing that distrust and suspicion are sometimes the end
products of such systematic and orderly inferential processes, a number of
researchers have noted that other forms of distrust and suspicion appear
to be far less systematic or rational in their origins. For example, Deutsch
(1973) proposed a form of irrational distrust and suspicion characterized
by an “inflexible, rigid, unaltering tendency to act in a suspicious manner,
irrespective of the situation or the consequences of so acting” (p. 171).
The irrationality of this form of distrust and suspicion, Deutsch noted, is
reflected in “the indiscriminateness and incorrigibility” of the cognitive
and behavioral tendencies they engender (p. 171). According to this
view, irrational distrust and suspicion reflect exaggerated propensities to
doubt others’ trustworthiness or benevolence and to harbor heightened
suspicions regarding their actions - doubts and suspicions which can
arise even in the absence of concrete evidence justifying them.
Paranoid cognitions have long been regarded as the prototypic form of
such extreme and exaggerated distrust and suspicion (Cameron, 1943).
In one of the first systematic treatments of this subject, Colby (1981)
defined paranoid cognitions as persecutory delusions and false beliefs
which encompass individuals’ perceptions of being “harassed, threat¬
ened, harmed, subjugated, persecuted, accused, mistreated, wronged,
tormented, disparaged, vilified, and so on, by malevolent others, either
specific individuals or groups” (p. 518).
Although initial research focused on the most extreme (i.e., clini¬
cal) forms of paranoid cognition (Cameron, 1943; Colby, 1981), recent
social-psychological research has shifted attention to the examination
of more benign or “ordinary” forms of paranoid cognition. Research
in this vein has proceeded from the observation that, in milder form,
paranoid cognitions appear to be quite prevalent in everyday social and
organizational life. They can be observed even among normal individ¬
uals, especially when they find themselves in situations that make them
feel socially threatened or anxious (e.g., Fenigstein, 1984; Fenigstein and
Vanable, 1992; Kramer, 1994, 1998; Zimbardo, Andersen, and Kabat,
1981). From the standpoint of the present chapter, it is important to note
that nearly all of this recent research has focused on interpersonal forms
of paranoid cognition, and has highlighted almost exclusively its cognitive
components (e.g., Fenigstein and Vanable, 1992; Kramer, 1998).
Misconnecting the dots
203
In this chapter, in contrast, we develop a conceptualization of paranoid
cognition at the intergroup level. Specifically, we are interested in situa¬
tions where members of one social or political group develop paranoid¬
like beliefs and suspicions regarding another group or groups. Although
we focus primarily on the cognitive engines driving paranoid beliefs and
attributions, we also consider the affective underpinnings and behavioral
consequences of paranoid cognitions in intergroup contexts. Accordingly,
drawing on but also expanding Colby’s original definition, we charac¬
terize out-group paranoia as individual group members’ perceptions of
themselves (and their in-group) as harassed, threatened, harmed, subju¬
gated, persecuted, accused, mistreated, wronged, tormented, disparaged,
or vilified by another group or its individual members. Out-group para¬
noia is thus construed in terms of both the specific cognitions group
members hold about a specific out-group (or out-groups) by whom they
feel threatened, and also all of the attendant affective states or feelings
associated with such dysphoric cognitions (cf. Smith, 1993).
We further formulate out-group paranoia as a psychological response
by group members to the specific interdependence structures in which
their intergroup relations are embedded. On the basis of accumulating
research, there has been growing appreciation of the affective and cogni¬
tive consequences of various interdependence structures on the develop¬
ment of intergroup relations (e.g., Alderfer, 1977; Ancona, 1987; Fiske
and Ruscher, 1993; Kramer, 1991; Zucker, 1986). We argue that asym¬
metrical interdependence structures (i.e., those characterized by differ¬
ences in the power, status, or dependence among groups) play a central
role in the development of out-group paranoia. To develop this point
further, it is necessary to consider the characteristics of such interdepen¬
dence structures, and to elaborate on their contribution to the emergence
of out-group paranoia.
Hierarchical trust dilemmas as contexts
for the emergence of out-group paranoia
As noted earlier in this chapter, trust dilemmas are situations where two
or more interdependent groups perceive an opportunity to benefit from
engaging in acts of trust, but are cognizant also of the risks of exploitation
or abuse associated with such acts (see Kramer and Carnevale, 2001 for a
recent review) . In most experimental studies of such dilemmas, symmet¬
ric intergroup relations (i.e., those involving equal dependence or power
between groups) have been modeled. In real-world intergroup relations,
however, it is very often the case that substantial asymmetries exist with
204 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer
respect to the levels of dependence or power between two or more groups.
A characteristic of these hierarchical intergroup trust dilemmas, then, is
that one group possesses comparatively low power or high dependence
relative to another group with which it is interdependent.
Examples of such low-power/high-dependence (LP/HD) groups are
plentiful in social and organizational life (Kramer, 1998). They include,
for example, groups that are disadvantaged with respect to their access
to, or control over, critical resources on which their survival and well¬
being depend (e.g., groups that differ substantially by socioeconomic
status). They include groups that experience substantial and chronic
uncertainty regarding their social status or standing in a social system
(e.g., token groups). They also include groups that perceive themselves
to be under conditions of high evaluative scrutiny (e.g., newcomer groups
in organizations or other groups whose status is still being negotiated).
Because of the operation of well-known self-serving and group-enhancing
biases, perceptions of asymmetries in benefits and burdens are common
denominators of intergroup experience (see, e.g., Polzer, Kramer, and
Neale, 1997).
From a psychological perspective, asymmetries in power or depen¬
dence have several important consequences. First, members of LP/HD
groups are likely to experience intense feelings of psychological vulnera¬
bility, insecurity, fear, and anxiety when dealing with members of high-
power out-groups on whom they depend. After all, these members must
rely on an out-group’s benevolence when it comes to the allocation of
critical resources under its jurisdiction or control (Brockner and Siegel,
1996; Tyler and Lind, 1992). Yet, at the same time, there may be consid¬
erable uncertainty regarding the motives, intentions, and actions of this
group. Because of these factors, concerns among LP/HD group mem¬
bers regarding the trustworthiness of the out-group or its members are
likely to be very salient.
When doubts about another group’s trustworthiness are present, judg¬
ment and choice in a trust dilemma can entail considerable attitudinal
ambivalence. As Kipnis (1996) aptly observed, simply having to trust
another social actor can create a strong antipathy towards both the act
of trust and its object. For example, in a trust dilemma, there may be a
strong desire and temptation to trust, in the hope of reaping the benefits
that flow from such trust. At the same time, there may be an equally
strong reluctance and aversion to trust because of the obvious vulner¬
abilities and risks such acts of trust create. Thus, from the standpoint
of the members of the LP/HD group, the decision to trust or not trust
the high-power out-group or its members creates a classic “approach-
avoidance” conflict (Janis, 1989; Janis and Mann, 1977). On the one
Misconnecting the dots
205
hand, trusting members of an out-group when they are willing to act in
a trustworthy fashion can lead to realization of a highly desired benefit -
an attractive lure. However, engaging in trusting behavior when they
lack trustworthiness can lead to the “sucker’s payoff,” a psychologically
aversive outcome and one that is to be avoided. Affectively, individu¬
als in such situations often simultaneously experience both the positive
hedonic states associated with an anticipation of the fulfillment of trust,
coupled with the negative affective states associated with the prospect of
abused trust.
To summarize, we have argued up to this point that out-group paranoia
represents an extreme and affectively laden form of heightened distrust
and suspicion. Additionally, we have suggested that dependence on a
powerful out-group, coupled with substantial uncertainty regarding that
out-group’s trustworthiness, creates the psychological climate for the
emergence of such paranoia. In the next section, we pull these two indi¬
vidual strands of argument more tightly together by explicating a model
of out-group paranoia in hierarchical trust dilemmas.
Out-group paranoia in hierarchical trust dilemmas:
a conceptual framework
Figure 11.1 depicts a model of out-group paranoia inductively derived
from a number of prior empirical studies (see Kramer, 1998 for a sum¬
mary of this evidence). According to the model, out-group paranoia is
triggered when individuals from one group find themselves in a situa¬
tion characterized by two conditions. The first condition is high actual
or perceived dependence on another group (the salient out-group). To
the extent that dependence contributes to a sense of loss of control over
one’s fate, it is likely to be experienced as aversive.
A second factor that can trigger out-group paranoia is the presence of
significant uncertainty or doubt regarding the out-group’s trustworthi¬
ness. Uncertainty in intergroup relations can take many forms, of course,
including, among others, uncertainty regarding the severity of the con¬
flict of interests between the parties, uncertainty regarding the possibly
malevolent motives or hostile intentions of the out-group, and the possi¬
bility that the out-group might engage in aggressive actions that threaten
the in-group’s future well-being (see Balliet and van Lange, 2013 for a
more thorough and thoughtful discussion of uncertainty and its impact
on trust) .
This conjunction of high dependence and high uncertainty, according
to the model, contributes to a heightened sense of vulnerability and
206
Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer
Figure 1 1 . 1 A model of out-group paranoia.
Misconnecting the dots
207
enhanced perceptions of threat from the out-group. These, in turn, give
rise to heightened states of fear and anxiety.
The model identifies two important consequences of such fear and anx¬
iety. First, fear and anxiety about the out-group’s intentions and actions
foster a hypervigilant mode of social information processing, whereby
frightened and anxious group members tend to scrutinize and overpro¬
cess information or cues regarding the intentions or actions of the dis¬
trusted out-group, especially when that information is highly ambiguous
or uncertain. Second, fear and anxiety contribute to a ruminative style of
social information processing, characterized by dysphoric (gloomy and
pessimistic) thinking regarding the causes and likely consequences of
one’s distressing predicament.
From the perspective of individuals in such predicaments, the osten¬
sible aim of such intense information processing is accurate appraisal of
the nature of the threat they face and, presumably, the formulation of
some sort of adaptive response to it. A considerable body of research
shows, in this regard, that moderate levels of perceived vulnerability and
threat often do provoke fairly vigilant and adaptive appraisal and cop¬
ing behavior (e.g., Janis and Mann, 1977; Janoff-Bulman, 1992; Lazarus
and Folkman, 1984; Snyder, 1999). Such studies suggest that individu¬
als engage in what they intend as constructive search and appraisal. In
other words, their hope and expectation are that by adequately “thinking
through” their problems, they are more likely to find a viable solution to
them (Janis and Mann, 1977; Janoff-Bulman, 1992; Wyer, 1996).
Although these positive goals may be the intended aims of such dili¬
gent information processing, research suggests a number of ways in which
hypervigilance and rumination can actually undermine accurate appraisal
and effective coping. For example, research has demonstrated that hyper¬
vigilant social information processing often leads to a constriction or
narrowing of the perceptual field, fostering the misconstrual and over¬
weighting of causal and social information (Janis and Mann, 1977). In
trust dilemma situations, for instance, studies have shown that hyper¬
vigilance can lead to exaggerated doubts about, and overly pessimistic
estimates of, others’ trustworthiness (Fenigstein, 1979; Fenigstein and
Vanable, 1992; Janoff-Bulman, 1992; Kramer, 1994; Kramer, Meyerson,
and Davis, 1990).
In a similar vein, research on dysphoric rumination has demonstrated
that rumination following negative events can increase pessimistic think¬
ing regarding those events, including “worst case” thinking about others’
reliability or trustworthiness (Greenberg, 1987; Kramer, 1994; Kramer,
Meyerson, and Davis, 1990; Lyubomirsky and Nolen-Hoeksema, 1993;
Wyer, 1996). Ironically, there is some evidence that intense rumination
208 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer
can also increase individuals’ confidence in the accuracy of their social
perceptions and inferences. As Wilson and Kraft (1993) aptly noted in
this regard, “Because it is often difficult to get at the exact roots of [our]
feelings, repeated introspections may not result in better access to the
actual causes. Instead, people may repeatedly focus on reasons that are
plausible and easy to verbalize” (p. 410). As a result, they may conclude
that their extra mindfulness of the evidence has led to better judgments
regarding it.
This raises the question as to just what sort of reasons are likely to be
perceived as plausible when individuals try to assess the trustworthiness
of an out-group or one of its members. Past research suggests that one
consequence of fear and anxiety in intergroup contexts is that stereotype-
consistent information will be overprocessed and overweighted when
group members are interpreting ambiguous or uncertain social informa¬
tion regarding an out-group (see Wilder and Simon, 2001 for a review).
In particular, this research has shown that fear and anxiety interfere with
the accurate processing of information about out-group members, so
that social perceivers are more likely to interpret their contact experi¬
ences in terms of their pre-existing expectations and beliefs regarding the
out-group. Moreover, when individuals are more anxious, they also are
likely to overlook counter-stereotypic information when making judg¬
ments about out-group members.
Drawing on this previous theory and research, we formulate three
specific forms of intergroup misperception or judgmental error that con¬
tribute to out-group paranoia. We characterize these three forms of mis¬
perception as (1) the overly personalistic construal of intergroup inter¬
actions, (2) the sinister attribution error or bias, and (3) the exaggerated
perception of conspiracy.
The overly personalistic construal of intergroup interactions refers to
the tendency for individuals from one group to interpret the behavior
of out-group members as if they were directed at them personally (i.e.,
had the self-as-out-group-member as the intended target) . A number of
studies have shown, for example, that people experiencing situationally
induced paranoia often make such overly personalistic attributions of
others’ actions, even when competing, nonpersonalistic explanations for
their behavior are readily available (Fenigstein, 1979; Fenigstein and
Vanable, 1992; Gilovich, Medvec, and Savitsky, 2000; Kramer, 1994;
Zimbardo et al., 1981). Thus, when members of one group overhear
members of another group laughing in a social setting, they may feel that
they are laughing at them rather than a joke that was just told by the group.
One factor contributing to this overly personalistic construal of
social interactions in intergroup contexts is the “biased punctuation”
Misconnecting the dots
209
of exchanges involving in-group and out-group members. Individuals in
such situations typically do not experience their interactions as continu¬
ous, ongoing streams, but instead “punctuate” them in terms of perceived
cycles or units of “action-reaction” (Kahn and Kramer, 1990). Thus, for
example, members of an in-group, I, are likely to construe the history
of conflict with a distrusted out-group, O, as a sequence O-I, O-I, O-I,
in which an initial breach of trust (e.g., a failure to keep a promise) was
made by O, causing I to engage in defensive and legitimate retaliatory
actions in response to that breach. However, members of out-group O
may punctuate the same history of interaction as I-O, I-O, I-O, reversing
their roles.
A second form of misperception associated with out-group paranoia is
the sinister-attribution bias. This bias reflects a tendency for social actors
to overattribute malevolent motives and intentions to the ambiguous
actions of other actors (Kramer, 1994). From a normative standpoint, it
has long been recognized that individuals should discount the validity of
any single causal attribution for another person’s behavior when multiple
explanations for that behavior are readily available (Kelley, 1973; Morris
and Larrick, 1995). Thus, when situational cues cast reasonable doubt
on another’s actions, people should become appropriately suspicious or
wary. Other studies have shown, however, that individuals sometimes
make unrealistically sinister inferences and attributions regarding others’
actions Such overly sinister attributions are especially likely to be made
in situations where negative stereotypes about the out-group’s trustwor¬
thiness already exist and therefore are easily activated (see, e.g., Insko
and Schopler, 1998; Wildschut, Pinter, Vevea et al., 2003).
The third form of misperception associated with out-group paranoia is
the exaggerated perception of conspiracy. This refers to the tendency for
members of one group to overestimate the extent to which the individual
behaviors of out-group members are coordinated or linked together by
some coherent motivation or goal (e.g., Crocker, Luhtanen, Broadmax
etal. , 1999; Kramer and Messick, 1996; Moscovici, 1987; Pruitt, 1987).
One of the hallmarks of such exaggerated perceptions of conspiracy is the
tendency to overperceive causal connections among the actions of indi¬
vidual out-group members. This overperception can arise, moreover,
even when their actions are, in actuality, independent and unrelated. Just
as the biased punctuation of intergroup exchanges entails the overper¬
ception of episodic linkages between disparate or unconnected events,
so the exaggerated perception of conspiracy entails an overperception of
intentional social linkages among the actions of out-group actors.
According to the model, these forms of misperception and mis-
construal contribute to several forms of paranoid behavior, including
210 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer
behavioral inhibition and social withdrawal. Behavioral inhibition
includes such things as reluctance to disclose personal details about one¬
self when in the presence of out-group members, or to engage in other
forms of “risky” social behavior (e.g., telling jokes, discussing controver¬
sial issues, etc.) when interacting with them. Social withdrawal includes
avoidant behaviors, such as not participating in informal social events
and eschewing other forms of contact with out-group members. Note
that these forms of paranoid behavior are intendedly self-protective (i.e.,
defensively motivated) .
Because many of the social behaviors affected by paranoid cognition
(e.g., the willingness to self-disclose to others, and engage in informal
contact with them) play a critical role in the development of trust, such
paranoia leads to a self-fulfilling pattern of suspicious and mistrustful
interaction. As the figure suggests in this regard, these paranoid behav¬
iors tend to elicit various parallel negative reactions from the out-group
members towards which they are directed. Thus, when out-group mem¬
bers detect a reluctance to self-disclose and the desire to avoid con¬
tact with them, they become wary and suspicious as well. Thus, the
reciprocal interaction dynamics created by these behaviors results in self-
perpetuating and often escalating cycles of mutual antipathy and wariness
(e.g., Zimbardo et al, 1981).
An instructive parallel to this reciprocal dynamic has been demon¬
strated in research on the development and persistence of hostile attribu¬
tion and dysfunctional interpersonal behavior among aggressive children
(Dodge, 1982). Such children, Dodge found, enter social transactions
with a strong expectation of hostility from others. They thus approach
their social encounters with a state of heightened vigilance. In a sense,
they are perpetually “pre-offended” and are therefore prepared to act
swiftly when detecting provocations or slights from others. Because of
this pre-emptive stance towards their social encounters, they end up,
ironically, eliciting through their self-protective behaviors the very out¬
comes they most dread. In much the same fashion as these overly aggres¬
sive boys, paranoid group members remain perceptually vigilant to detect
signs indicative of out-group untrustworthiness. Because they are primed
for the prospect of trust abuses, they are prone, as a result, to code even
ambiguous encounters as evidence of tainted trustworthiness. The para¬
noid and defensive behavioral stances supported by these expectations
then end up eliciting the very sort of uncomfortable, self-conscious, emo¬
tionally distant intergroup interactions that further reinforce and help
sustain mutual wariness, suspicion and discomfort between the groups
(cf. Gilbert and Jones, 1986; Gilovich, 1991; Kramer, 1994; Zimbardo
et al., 1981). Thus, a dubious set of assumptions and nagging doubts
Misconnecting the dots
211
serve as a foundation for an equally questionable set of social strategies
for dealing with them.
Ironically, even the complete absence of any cues at all can be con¬
strued as a powerful form of confirmatory evidence for the paranoid
in-group perceiver when anxiety activates the stereotype-consistent pro¬
cessing of ambiguous information. Dawes (1988) has provided a nice
illustration of this possibility in his discussion of the debate over the
necessity of interning Japanese-Americans at the beginning of World
War II. The question, of course, was the safety of American society given
the presence of a sizeable contingent of Japanese-Americans in its midst
in the middle of a war with Japan. Where would their loyalties lie? Could
they be trusted? When the late Supreme Court Chief Justice Earl War¬
ren (then attorney-general of California) testified before a congressional
hearing regarding the wisdom of internment, one of his interrogators
noted that absolutely no evidence of espionage or sabotage on the part
of any Japanese-Americans had been presented or was available to the
committee. Thus, there was absolutely no objective evidence of danger at
all. Warren’s response as to how best to interpret this absence of evidence
is revealing. “Unfortunately, [there are many who] are of the opinion that
because we have had no sabotage and no fifth column activities in this
state . . . that none has been planned for us. But I take the view that this
lack [of evidence] is the most ominous sign in our whole situation. It
convinces me more than perhaps any other factor that the sabotage we
are to get, the Fifth Column activities we are to get, are timed just like
Pearl Harbor was timed” (p. 251). He then went on to add, “I believe we
are just being lulled into a false sense of security” (p. 251).
Implications and conclusions
In this chapter, we have presented a framework for conceptualizing some
of the cognitive, affective, and behavioral antecedents and consequences
of out-group paranoia. The construct of out-group paranoia is useful, we
have argued, for understanding the conditions under which exaggerated
and dysfunctional forms of distrust and suspicion are likely to develop and
flourish between interdependent social groups. Metaphorically speaking,
the psychological processes identified by this framework - operating in
concert - make it all too easy for members of one group to “misconnect
the dots” when trying to determine another group’s trustworthiness - or
lack thereof.
At first glance, it might appear that our framework leads one to con¬
clude that out-group paranoia might be an overdetermined psycholog¬
ical state - easily triggered and quickly entrenched. As such, it would
212 Roderick M. Kramer and Jennifer Schaffer
seem to bode badly for the prospects of intergroup trust and cooper¬
ation developing between any interdependent groups, especially those
with a history of enmity. While it is our view that suspicion and distrust
between groups can emerge quite readily, research has identified psy¬
chological processes that may attenuate the development of escalating
paranoia and run-away wariness. For example, provocative work on the
system justification motive suggests a variety of psychological and social
processes which can contribute to the acceptance of the status quo in
intergroup relations (see, e.g., Jost and Banaji, 1994; Jost and Burgess,
2000; Jost and Kramer, 2002). Arguably, such processes might off-set
or compensate for some of the deleterious factors we have identified in
this chapter. Moreover, group members (and especially their leaders) are
not passive or helpless bystanders to such dynamics. As recent research
has amply demonstrated, there are a variety of constructive approaches
that motivated groups and their leaders can take to build and sustain
trust (Pittinsky, 2012). These include both behavioral and structural
interventions designed to facilitate more cooperative and trusting inter¬
group interactions. Moreover, even in situations where trust has been
disrupted or damaged, trust repair is possible if groups and their leaders
are motivated and resourceful in approaching this challenge (Kramer and
Lewicki, 2010; Kramer and Pittinsky, 2012). We hope future research
will explore these possibilities further.
There remains one important caveat or cautionary note we should add
before concluding this chapter. Although the reduction of misplaced dis¬
trust and exaggerated paranoia are laudatory goals, it is important to note
that sometimes a certain level of “paranoia” may be justified and even
quite prudent. For example, when the costs of misplaced trust or compla¬
cency with respect to threat detection are high, even the extreme-seeming
levels of vigilance and surveillance of an out-group may be warranted.
Within many groups, interestingly, there are often one or more individ¬
uals whose perceptions of threat or danger are more accurate than other
members’ - and whose paranoid-like warnings merit attention. Unfor¬
tunately, such “Cassandras” are often ignored, ridiculed, or ostracized
(Kramer, 2002). For example, Winston Churchill’s persistent concerns
and early warnings about the dangers posed by Adolf Hitler were dis¬
counted for many years by his colleagues in Parliament. Similarly, when
FBI agent John O’Neill tried to alert government officials to the danger
posed by Osama bin Laden prior to the September 11, 2001 terror¬
ist attacks on America, he was dismissed by many of his superiors as
“obsessed” and “slightly paranoid” (Weiss, 2003). One important lesson
from these examples is that organizational leaders should encourage indi¬
viduals to express their concerns openly and reward them for doing so,
Misconnecting the dots
213
and should ensure that those concerns are taken seriously. One impor¬
tant role for intergroup leaders is to be vigilant and supportive of such
group deviants. After all, as former Intel CEO Andy Grove (1999) liked
to routinely warn his employees, “Only the paranoid survive!”
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12 Political paranoia and conspiracy theories
Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham
We seem to live in an incredibly credulous age. Despite the unparal¬
leled proliferation of information (or perhaps because of it), many people
appear to believe in all sorts of myths or false narratives that exaggerate,
idealize, or misconstrue reality. These beliefs extend to almost all aspects
of modern life, from pseudoscience (Swami, Stieger, Pietschnig et al,
2012b) to pseudohistory (Allchin, 2004), as well as they way societies
are governed and the motives of those who govern. In addition, many
millions of people worldwide appear to subscribe to unfounded “conspir¬
acy theories,” while denying “official” or mainstream accounts of many
important phenomena.
Whether it was about Salem witches, slaveholders, Jews, Bolsheviks,
or black militants, conspiracy theories have always found deep roots in
society (Fenster, 1999; Goldberg, 2001; Knight, 2001). In contemporary
societies, however, conspiracy theorists have found fertile ground in intel¬
ligence failures, such as in the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941
(Barkun, 2003; Prange, 1986) and the assassination of President John F.
Kennedy in 1963. In terms of the latter, for example, many Americans
remain skeptical of the findings of the Warren Commission Report, which
identified Lee Harvey Oswald as having acted alone in assassinating John
F. Kennedy (Posner, 1993). Indeed, by the early 1990s, polls suggested
that over 70% of Americans believed that some form of conspiracy was
responsible for the president’s death (Goertzel, 1994; McHoskey, 1995;
Southwell and Twist, 2004).
The proliferation of conspiracy theories appears to have gathered pace
in the wake of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, as conspir¬
acy theorists became convinced that they had uncovered hidden plots
behind the events. Many scholars have noted with some concern the
spread of conspiracy theories about the event (e.g., Goldberg, 2004)
and the large number of respondents who disbelieve many aspects of
mainstream accounts of the attacks (Hargrove and Stempel, 2006). Sim¬
ilarly, in the aftermath of the bombings in London on July 7, 2005,
many disbelieved mainstream/official accounts that the attacks had been
218
Conspiracy theories
219
carried out by four Muslim men (Soni, 2007). However, it would be
wrong to think that conspiracy theories are a uniquely Western phe¬
nomenon; rather, conspiracy theories appear to exist in many cultures
worldwide (Gentzkow and Shapiro, 2004; Groh, 1987; Zonis and Joseph,
1994).
In an increasingly globalized world, and against the background of tur¬
moil caused by financial crises, war, and international terrorism, the need
to understand the nature and roots of conspiracy theories has become
increasingly important (Goldberg, 2001, 2004). In this chapter, we begin
by providing a working definition of conspiracy theories in the modern
age. We then dissect the roots of conspiracy theories, focusing in partic¬
ular on early sociological work and more recent psychological research.
Finally, we briefly evaluate the place of conspiracy theories in modern
societies and ask whether they can ever be a force for positive change. In
so doing, we pay particular attention to political conspiracy theories in
modern times.
What makes a theory conspiracist?
In reviewing the literature on conspiracy theories, various authors have
expressed their surprise at the relative dearth of empirical work in the
area (e.g., Swami and Coles, 2010). One reason why conspiracy theories
may not have attracted much scholarly attention is the lack of consensus
as to what is, and is not, a conspiracy theory. This concern might seem
innocuous enough until one is faced with distinguishing between con¬
spiracy theories and conspiratorial politics, or real clandestine and covert
political activities (Bale, 2007; see also Lidz, 1978). A clear and consis¬
tent definition of conspiracy theory, placed on a sound theoretical and
empirical base, is required before the study of such beliefs can progress.
Unfortunately, there was - and there still is - a good deal of conceptual
confusion as to what makes a belief conspiracist in nature, with scholars
often relying on informal or imprecise working definitions (Swami and
Coles, 2010).
Traditionally, many scholars have relied on Hofstadter’s (1966, pp. 14,
29) definition, first provided in his seminal work The Paranoid Style in
American Politics and Other Essays, of a conspiracy theory as any belief
in the existence of a “vast, insidious, preternaturally effective interna¬
tional conspiratorial network designed to perpetrate acts of the most
fiendish character” and that aims to “undermine and destroy a way of
life.” Implicit in this definition of a conspiracy theory is the notion that
some event or practice can be explained with “reference to the machina¬
tions of powerful people, who attempt to conceal their role (at least until
220
Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham
their aims are accomplished” (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009, p. 205). In
very general terms, then, conspiracy theories are a subset of false beliefs
in which the ultimate cause of an event is believed to be due to a plot by
multiple actors working together with a clear goal in mind, often unlaw¬
fully and in secret (Barkun, 2003; Basham, 2001; Davis, 1971; Goldberg,
2001; Zonis and Joseph, 1994).
For practical reasons, however, some authors have limited their focus
to those beliefs that are potentially harmful in some way (excluding, say,
the belief that Santa Claus distributes presents on Christmas Eve) and
those that are unjustified based on information that is available in the
public domain (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009). In addition, Bale (2007,
pp. 51-3) has suggested a set of four key characteristics that distinguish
conspiracy theories from real conspiratorial politics. These are that:
(1) Conspiracy theorists “consider the alleged conspirators to be Evil
Incarnate.” That is, the conspirators are not simply actors with dif¬
fering political points-of-view, but are rather “inhuman, superhuman,
and/or anti-human beings who regularly commit abominable acts and
are implacably attempting to subvert and destroy everything that is
decent and worth preserving in the existing world.”
(2) Conspiracy theorists “perceive the conspiratorial group as both
monolithic and unerring in the pursuit of its goals.” In other words,
conspiracy theorists believe that there is a single conspiratorial hub,
which plans and coordinates its activities, and which possesses a high
degree of internal solidarity, cohesiveness, and single-mindedness.
(3) Conspiracy theorists “believe that the conspiratorial group is omni¬
present.” That is, most conspiracy theories postulate the existence
of a group of conspirators that is “international in its spatial dimen¬
sions and continuous in its temporal dimensions.” In this view, the
conspiratorial group is believed to be capable of operating anywhere,
which in turn allows for any negative outcome even remotely asso¬
ciated with the aims of the conspiratorial group to be attributed to
them.
(4) Conspiracy theorists believe that the conspiratorial group is “virtually
omnipotent.” In short, the conspiratorial group is considered to have
been the force behind events of historical importance and continues
to use nefarious and subversive means to maintain their domination
over society. The one means of subverting their influence is to heed
the warning of conspiracy theorists, although that is by no means a
guarantee of success.
The above definitional criteria are not meant to be exhaustive (see
Mandick, 2007), but they do capture the essence of most prominent
conspiracy theories, such as the belief that the US Central Intelligence
Conspiracy theories
221
Agency (CIA) was responsible for the assassination of John F. Kennedy
or that the September 1 1, 2001 attacks were perpetrated (or allowed to
happen) by high-ranking officials in the US government. More perti¬
nently, perhaps, it is these definitional criteria that serve to distinguish
conspiracy theories from real, everyday conspiratorial politics that are
carried out by groups both within and outside government. In short,
then, a conspiracy theory can be defined operationally as a set of false
beliefs in which an omnipresent and omnipotent group of actors are
believed to work together in pursuit of malevolent goals (Barkun, 2003;
Basham, 2001; Davis, 1971; Goldberg, 2001; Zonis and Joseph, 1994).
Having established a working definition of a conspiracy theory, we now
turn to the sociology of conspiracy theories, examining in particular their
emergence and purpose.
The paranoid style
Without doubt, contemporary discussions of conspiracy theories owe
much to Hofstadter’s paper “The Paranoid Style in American Politics”
(1966), in which he sought to contextualize the ascendancy of right-wing
conspiracy theories. In coining the term “paranoid style,” Hofstadter
clarified that he was borrowing a clinical term to describe a political
personality:
American politics has often been an area for angry minds. In recent years, we have
seen angry minds at work, mainly among extreme right-wingers, who have now
demonstrated . . . how much political leverage can be got out of the animosities
and passions of a small minority. But, behind this, I believe, there is a style of
mind that is far from new, and that is not necessarily right-wing. I call it the
paranoid style, simply because no other word adequately evokes the sense of
heated exaggeration, suspiciousness, and conspiratorial fantasy that I have in
mind. (p. 3)
In short, the paranoid style was a result of “angry minds” that viewed
conspiratorial agents as “a perfect model of malice, a kind of amoral
superman - sinister, ubiquitous, powerful, cruel, sexual, luxury-loving.”
For the conspiracist:
[T]he enemy is not caught in the toils of the vast mechanism of history, himself a
victim of his past, his desires, his limitations. He wills, indeed, he manufactures,
the mechanism of history, or tries to deflect the normal course of history in an
evil way. He makes crises, starts runs on banks, causes depressions, manufactures
disasters, and then enjoys and profits from the misery he has produced. The
paranoid’s interpretation of history is distinctly personal: decisive events are not
taken as part of the stream of history, but as the consequences of someone’s
will. (p. 22)
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Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham
What’s more, because conspiracy theorists traffic “in the birth and death
of whole worlds, whole political orders, whole systems of human val¬
ues,” they do not see “social conflict as something to be mediated and
compromised, in the manner of the working politician.” Rather:
Since what is at stake is always a conflict between absolute good and absolute evil,
what is necessary is not compromise but the will to fight things out to a finish.
Since the enemy is thought of as being totally evil and totally unappeasable, he
must be totally eliminated — if not from the world, at least from the theatre of
operations to which the paranoid directs his attention, (p. 24)
This extended description of Hofstadter’s work is necessary because it
set the tone for much of the sociological literature that followed. Deeply
influenced by Hofstadter, many scholars came to view conspiracy the¬
orists as both paranoid and delusional. In fact, a good deal of research
focused heavily on the psychopathology of conspiracy theorists, variously
proposing that conspiracist ideation was the product of extreme paranoia,
delusional thinking, or narcissism (see Robins and Post, 1997). In turn,
the delusional nature of conspiracist ideation was assumed to result in
an inability to effectively shape social and political action. In short, the
influence of Hofstadter is evident in attempts to explain the acceptance
of conspiracy theories in terms of individual (Robins and Post, 1997) or
collective pathology (Groh, 1987).
Although it is quite possible that some conspiracist ideation is the result
of mental illness (Wulff, 1987; see also Liu, 1998), most contemporary
scholars believe that the lens of psychopathology is not particularly help¬
ful in understanding the reasons why conspiracy theories arise. A com¬
mon critique is that conspiracy theories are so widespread, not just within
but also across cultures, that it implausible to suggest that so many mem¬
bers of society are mentally ill (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009). Rather,
more recent sociological research has sought to understand conspiracy
theories as a means for members of society to explain social phenomena
that are otherwise difficult to comprehend (Waters, 1997).
In actual fact, this perspective also owes much to Hofstadter, who
posited that conspiracy theories are more likely to emerge among
individuals or groups who feel powerless, disadvantaged, or voiceless
(Hofstadter, 1971). In particular, it is thought that conspiracy theo¬
ries help to make sense of phenomena that are complex, incompre¬
hensible, or beyond one’s control. By reducing and simplifying phe¬
nomena that are often unimaginable, such as terrorist attacks or great
tragedy, and by tying together a series of events in relation to its pur¬
ported causes and effects (Parish and Parker, 2001), conspiracy theories
seemingly offer coherent explanations for human affairs that are not
Conspiracy theories
223
otherwise forthcoming (McCauley and Jacques, 1979; Miller, 2002;
Pipes, 1997).
Thus, conspiracy theories purport to identify the cause of a perceived
injustice or tragedy, and thereby help individuals to make sense of the
world. Moreover, in personifying that source, conspiracy theories help
to reaffirm an individual’s ability to shape historical events and, partially
at least, offer a way to assuage feelings of powerlessness (Pratt, 2003).
Certainly, there is evidence from particular populations, such as African-
Americans, to suggest that conspiracist beliefs arise as a means of making
sense of an individual’s marginalized position in society (Thorburn and
Bogart, 2005). Moreover, when participants are experimentally made to
feel that they have a lack of control, their belief in conspiracy increases
(Sullivan, Landau, and Rothschild, 2010; Whitson and Galinsky, 2008).
From this perspective, conspiracy theories are viewed as rational psy¬
chological phenomena that are no different from other religious, social,
or political beliefs. Like these other meta-explanatory frameworks, a con¬
spiracy theory helps to fill a need for certainty, control, or understanding,
filling gaps in knowledge and offering a coherent elucidation of difficult
events (Leman, 2007; Whitson and Galinsky, 2008). As such, conspiracy
theories are believed to gain acceptance particularly when mainstream
explanations of an event contain erroneous information, discrepancies,
or ambiguities (Miller, 2002) . For individuals who feel powerless, a con¬
spiracy theory helps explain those ambiguities and “provides a convenient
alternative to living with uncertainty” (Zarefsky, 1984, p. 72).
Consistent with this view, some scholars have suggested that conspir¬
acy theories fulfill an important functional role, particularly when sources
of information are limited. Given that individuals often have to rely on
others for direct or personal information, it is not surprising that they
often suffer from what Flardin (2002) has called a “crippled epistemol¬
ogy.” Hardin uses this perspective to understand extremist behavior.
Extremism, he argues, sometimes stems from the fact that individuals
have very little accurate or relevant information, and the little informa¬
tion that they do have is supported by their extremist views. In support
of this view, recent evidence has suggested that the type of information
that individuals receive about a given event can influence their conspir¬
acist ideation (Swami et al., 2012b). Specifically, where information is
uncritical of a conspiracy theory, acceptance appears to be higher than if
the information is critical.
Sunstein and Vermeule (2009) have applied a similar framework to
conspiracy theories: rather than being the product of irrationality or men¬
tal illness, these authors view conspiracy theories as a rational and logi¬
cal manner of responding to the little information that individuals have
224
Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham
about a particular phenomenon. Particularly when there is little reliable
information about an event or when details are ambiguous, conspiracy
theories may gain acceptance precisely because they offer a coherent and
comprehensive worldview. From the point of view of conspiracy theo¬
rists, their beliefs are justified in the light of the information that they
have available to them, even if those beliefs seem perplexing in relation
to knowledge available in wider society (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009).
Other scholars have built on the notion of powerlessness to explain why
conspiracy theories become accepted among some individuals and have
posited that conspiracy ideation stems from an inability to attain certain
goals (Edelman, 1985; Ingelhart, 1987) or as a means of maintaining self¬
esteem in the face of external threats (Robins and Post, 1997), coping
with persecution (Combs, Penn, and Fenigstein, 2002), reasserting indi¬
vidualism (Davis, 1969; Melley, 2000), or expressing negative feelings
towards out-groups (Ungerleider and Wellisch, 1979). Although these
different explanations may seem diverse, they share a common assump¬
tion that conspiracy theories are not a result of psychopathological minds,
but rather a rational attempt to deal with feelings of powerlessness sparked
by complex economic, social, and political phenomena.
Psychological perspectives
In contrast to the above sociological perspectives on conspiracy theo¬
ries, psychological examinations of the phenomenon have stemmed from
cognitive science and, more recently, differential psychology. In terms
of the former, one school of thought believes that conspiracy theories
emerge, in part at least, as a function of the fundamental attribution
error (Clarke, 2002). This bias refers to the general tendency to over¬
value dispositional or personality-based explanations for observed events
or the behavior of others, while undervaluing situational explanations for
the self (Ross, 1977). Applied to conspiracist ideation, Clarke (2002)
argues that conspiracy theorists may be more likely to blame person¬
ified actors or conspiratorial networks, thereby making a dispositional
inference even when adequate situational explanations are available. It is
because of this cognitive bias that conspiracy theorists rely on conspira¬
torial explanations for events and that they maintain those beliefs even in
the face of alternative, more plausible explanations.
Other work has sought to understand conspiracy theories in the con¬
text of biased assimilation and attitude polarization (McHoskey, 1995).
Specifically, when an event is highly salient or becomes “cognitively
available” (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009), competing actors will seek
to explain the same event from different points of view. When opposing
Conspiracy theories
225
sides are presented with the same evidence, there may be a tendency to
uncritically accept evidence that is supportive of one’s own argument,
while seeking to discredit contrary evidence (McHoskey, 1995). Corrob¬
orative evidence is provided in a study by Leman and Cinnirella (2007),
which found that conspiracy theorists judged a fictitious account of an
assassination as more plausible if it was consistent with their beliefs. For
conspiracy theorists in particular, conspiracy theories may serve not only
to explain the event in question but also to symbolize broader narra¬
tives about human affairs while casting doubt on alternative viewpoints
(Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009).
However, McHoskey (1995) also reported that, when participants were
presented with mixed evidence, there were signs of attitude polarization,
in which individuals endorsed a more extreme position in line with their
tendency. Consistent with this viewpoint, Sunstein and Vermeule (2009)
argued that group polarization may be an important driver of conspir-
acist ideation. Within groups with some initial inclination, the views of
others in the group may come to be skewed in the direction of more
extreme positions in favor of the initial tendency. However, Sunstein and
Vermeule (2009) also note that group polarization is more likely when
individuals in a group have a shared sense of identity; this allows con¬
trasting viewpoints to be dismissed more easily by the group as lacking
in credibility. Conformity biases may also play a role in group polariza¬
tion, with individuals professing agreement with conspiracist ideas, or
suppressing dissent, in order to avoid group sanctions.
Sunstein and Vermeule (2009) have also discussed the role of the emo¬
tional content of conspiracy theories in their dissemination and accep¬
tance. Much in the same way that “urban legends” are constructed to
trigger strong emotional responses, conspiracy theories are often similarly
loaded with intense emotions. By triggering a strong emotional response,
conspiracy theories serve to focus attention on biased information and
are thereby more easily spread to others who share similar beliefs. In
addition, acceptance of emotionally loaded conspiracy theories may help
to justify affective states produced by an event. There is some empirical
evidence to support such an argument: one study reported that expo¬
sure to Oliver Stone’s 1991 film JFK, in which it was alleged that the
assassination of John F. Kennedy was a government conspiracy, signifi¬
cantly aroused anger in participants and changed beliefs towards greater
acceptance of the conspiracy theory (Butler, Coopman, and Zimbardo,
1995).
Other relevant work has examined conspiracy theories in relation to the
third-person effect - that is, a tendency for people to believe that persua¬
sive media has a larger influence on others than themselves. For example,
226
Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham
Douglas and Sutton (2008) had participants read material containing
conspiracy theories about Princess Diana’s death before rating their own
and others’ agreement with the statements, as well as their perceived ret¬
rospective attitudes. These authors found that participants significantly
underestimated how much the conspiracy theories influenced their own
attitudes. A smaller body of theorizing has looked at the role of rumors
and speculation in the assimilation of conspiracy theories, although this
work remains piecemeal (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009).
Personality and individual differences
Most recently, a small body of research has examined conspiracy theories
from the point of view of differential psychology. Much of this work can be
traced back to Goertzel’s (1994) seminal paper, in which he argued that
conspiracy theories form part of a “monological belief system.” That is,
once an individual has adopted a conspiracist worldview, new conspiracy
theories are assimilated more easily because they support that particular
worldview. Thus, believing (for example) that the September 11, 2001,
attacks were committed by the US government makes it more likely that
an individual will accept the conspiracy theory that the 2005 London
bombings were committed by the British government.
There is accumulating evidence in support of the idea that conspiracy
theories form part of a monological belief system (e.g., Wood, Dou¬
glas, and Sutton, in press). One study reported that individuals who
more strongly believed in a range of conspiracy theories, such as the
idea that John F. Kennedy was not assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald,
were also more likely to endorse conspiracy theories about the September
11, 2001, attacks (Swami, Chamorro-Premuzic, and Furnham, 2010).
A second study similarly reported that stronger belief in conspiracy theo¬
ries was associated with a greater tendency to endorse conspiracy theories
about the July 7, 2005 bombings in London (Swami et al., 2011). More
interestingly, perhaps, the same study also showed that individuals who
more strongly believed in conspiracy theories were also more likely to
endorse an entirely fictional conspiracy theory devised by the experi¬
menters (Swami et al., 201 1).
Other related work has examined associations between belief in con¬
spiracy theories and individual difference traits that were identified by
earlier sociological work. Thus, studies have reported significant associa¬
tions between stronger conspiracist ideation and higher anomie, distrust
in authority, political cynicism, and powerlessness, as well as lower self¬
esteem (Abalakina-Paap, Stephan, Craig et al., 1994; Goertzel, 1994;
Conspiracy theories
227
Swami et al., 2010, 2011; Swami and Furnham, 2012). In general, these
findings are consistent with the proposal that conspiracist ideation is more
common among disenfranchised, disadvantaged, or powerless groups
(Hofstadter, 1966) and that conspiracy theories play a role in self-esteem
maintenance (Robins and Post, 1997; Young, 1990).
In addition, two studies have reported significant associations between
stronger conspiracist belief and greater support for democratic princi¬
ples (Swami et al., 2010, 2011), which might reflect conspiracy theorists’
greater tendency to question official modes of governance. In addition,
studies have also reported significant associations between greater con¬
spiracist ideation and higher authoritarianism (Abalakina-Paap et al.,
1994; McHoskey, 1995), which has been explained as a manifestation
of the tendency of conspiracy theorists to direct blame towards out¬
groups (Abalakina-Paap et al., 1994). Furthermore, at least one study
has reported a significant association between conspiracist ideation and
lower crystallized intelligence (Swami et al., 2011), which might sug¬
gest that the simplified explanations of complex phenomena offered by
conspiracy theories may be more appealing to individuals with lower
cognitive ability.
Several studies have also specifically examined the associations between
conspiracist ideation and the Big Five personality variables (Swami et al.,
2010, 2011). These studies have reported a significant negative associa¬
tion between conspiracist ideation and the Big Five factor of agreeable¬
ness (which reflects a tendency to be pleasant and accommodating in
social situations), which was explained as a function of more disagree¬
able individuals being more suspicious and antagonistic towards others
(Swami et al., 2010). In addition, there also appears to be a reliable asso¬
ciation between conspiracist ideation and higher openness to experience
scores (which reflects a preference for intellectual variety and stimula¬
tion). Swami et al. (2010) have suggested that more open individuals
may show a greater appreciation for unique, unusual, or challenging
ideas, or that their proclivity for new ideas may result in greater exposure
to conspiracist ideas. However, it is important to note that the significant
associations between conspiracist ideation and the Big Five variables that
have been uncovered to date have generally been small ( r < .15).
A smaller body of work has also examined the associations between
conspiracist ideation and psychopathological individual difference traits.
For example, Swami et al. (2011) reported significant associations
between conspiracist ideation and paranormal beliefs, though not super¬
stitious beliefs. Conversely, however, another study using confirmatory
analysis showed that belief in conspiracy theories was associated with
228
Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham
schizotypy and paranoid ideation, but not paranormal beliefs (Darwin,
Neave, and Holmes, 2011). Other related work has suggested that belief
in conspiracy theories is associated with attempts to cope with existen¬
tial threat and death-related anxiety (Newheiser, Farias, and Tausch,
2011). Such findings, when taken together, suggest that conspiracy the¬
ories may afford individuals a means of maintaining meaning or control
in their lives.
What is to be done?
An important conclusion that can be derived from the above review of
the literature is that conspiracy theories, far from being irrational or a
sign of a pathological mind, in fact provide deep insights into the func¬
tioning of society. In this sense, it is important to acknowledge the roles
that conspiracy theories play for those who disseminate and accept them,
particularly in terms of empowerment in times of crisis and tragedy
(Swami and Coles, 2010; Waters, 1997). Taken to its logical conclu¬
sion, it might be argued that conspiracy theories are a powerful indicator
of dissatisfaction with aspects of governance, society, or politics. Only
by understanding the roots of conspiracist ideation and its function in
society can scholars and practitioners truly begin to address the more dif¬
ficult problem of challenging false, unjustified, and harmful conspiracist
ideation (Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009).
Even so, when it comes to the question of dealing with conspiracy
theories, scholarly opinion appears to be mixed. On the one hand, some
scholars have suggested that conspiracy theories have a beneficial role to
play for societies (Clarke, 2002). For example, insofar as conspiracy the¬
ories reveal anomalies, inconsistencies, or ambiguities in official accounts
of important events, they may sometimes reveal real conspiracies (e.g.,
the Watergate Hotel room used by the Democratic National Commit¬
tee was indeed bugged by Republican officials, on instructions from the
White House) . In addition, to the extent that conspiracy theorists press
governments for better explanations of an event, it can lead to better
demands for, as well as actually improved, transparency in government
affairs (Clarke, 2002; Leman, 2007; Swami and Coles, 2010).
Other scholars have offered similar arguments. Miller (2002) suggests
that, in some instances, the means of addressing the credibility of gov¬
ernance are severely limited. In such scenarios, conspiracy theories may
provide individuals with a public opportunity to challenge aspects of gov¬
ernance that may be otherwise circumscribed. Similarly, Fenster (1999)
views conspiracy theories as populist narratives that pit “the people” in
Conspiracy theories
229
opposition to “the power bloc” and afford space for the former to ques¬
tion and theorize on the distribution of power in contemporary societies.
As Fenster (1999, p. 109) writes, conspiracy theories “must be recog¬
nized as a cultural practice that attempts to map, in narrative form, the
trajectories and effects of power.”
Moreover, far from promoting social withdrawal or political inac¬
tion, conspiracy theories may foster and promote political mobilization
(Saucier, Akers, Shen-Miller et al., 2009). Fenster (1999) believes that
the narratives of conspiracy theories contain the beginnings of social
movements that can be a force for positive change. In a similar vein,
Waters (1997, p. 123) argues that, insofar as conspiracy theories help
explain misfortunes by attributing them to the planned actions of oth¬
ers, they should be seen “as the ultimate recognition of agency in social
action.” Others have noted the power of conspiracy theories to foster sol¬
idarity among previously disparate groups and to provide new forms of
authority in spaces that have been vacated by faith in traditional author¬
ities (Goldberg, 2001; Sasson, 1995).
However, other scholars, as well as some of those cited above, have
noted the very real limitations of conspiracy theories as a force for change.
For example, Goldberg (2001) acknowledges that conspiracy theories
can be empowering in times of crisis and tragedy, such as a terrorist
attack or a financial crisis, but also argues that they actively erode faith in
governance. By continually questioning authority and by closing the door
to compromise, conspiracy theorists weaken the ability of governments
to govern. Similarly, some scholars have noted that the simplistic nature
of many conspiracy theories means that they often easily succumb to
exclusionary narratives (Basham, 2003). In such cases, conspiracy the¬
ories not only lose any power to constructively change society, but also
harm society with negative messages (Fenster, 1999; Miller, 2002). In
short, conspiracy theories often have the potential to sow discord, and,
worse still, when actors (whether conspiracy theorists or their detractors)
move on unfounded beliefs, it can result in mistrust and violence.
Other scholars have likewise noted the many negative practical out¬
comes of subscribing to conspiracy theories, particularly among select
populations. For example, several research groups have focused on the
conspiracy theories held by some individuals that HIV/AIDS and birth
control are plots against African-Americans (Bird and Bogart, 2003,
2005; Parsons, Simmons, Shinhoster et al., 1999; Thorburn and Bogart,
2005; Turner and Darity, 1973). Regardless of whether or not such
conspiracy theories are justified (consider, for example, the previous
unethical research involving African-Americans, such as the Tuskegee
syphilis study; Thomas and Quinn, 1991), it has been shown that belief
230
Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham
in such conspiracy theories is associated with less consistent pregnancy
prevention and condom use and poorer knowledge about HIV/AIDS and
AIDS-prevention programs (Bogart and Thorburn, 2006).
Finally, it is important to question the potential of conspiracy theories
as a force for change in itself. Fenster (1999, p. 109) is perhaps most
vocal in this respect, arguing that conspiracy theories frequently “leave
unsettled the resolution to the question of power that [they] attempt
to address.” Although a degree of skepticism is vital for the healthy
functioning of societies, conspiracy theorists typically question structures
of power without offering a real alternative to those structures. That is,
by blaming conspiratorial agents, conspiracy theories in fact help those
who seek to absolve modes of governance from blame in perpetuating
and accentuating injustice. Moreover, because many conspiracy theorists
deny the legitimacy of authority, they become trapped in exclusionary
politics that, over time, becomes both polarized and polarizing. To the
extent that conspiracy theories are unjustified or baseless, they may also
divert attention from real political issues, undermine democratic debate,
and weaken associated movements for change.
Given such negative aspects, scholars are now paying greater atten¬
tion to the eradication of conspiracy theories. Not surprisingly, conspir¬
acy theories have been found to be very difficult to eliminate, precisely
because of their nature (Keeley, 1999; see also Kramer, 1994). For exam¬
ple, to the extent that conspiracy theorists segregate themselves both
informationally and physically, and to the extent that they are already
distrustful of authority, it becomes much harder to engage with conspir¬
acy theorists and to challenge their claims. Even where dialogue has been
established, the fact that many conspiracy theorists “consider the alleged
conspirators to be Evil Incarnate” (Bale, 2007, p. 51) means that the
potential for compromise is severely stunted.
Nevertheless, Sunstein and Vermeule (2009, p. 218) have proposed
that, when dealing with conspiracy theories, governments have a number
of options at their disposal:
(1) Ban conspiracy theories outright.
(2) Impose a tax (financial or otherwise) on those who disseminate con¬
spiracy theories.
(3) Engage in “counterspeech,” where justified and sound arguments
are used to discredit conspiracy theories.
(4) Formally hire private parties to engage in counterspeech.
(5) Engage in informal communication with conspiracy theorists, en¬
couraging them to help.
However, the utility of these suggested actions is unknown: banning
conspiracy theories or taxing those who disseminate conspiracy theories
Conspiracy theories
231
may not only prove difficult to implement (e.g., from a legal point of view)
but may also serve to enhance the appeal of conspiracy theories. On the
other hand, Sunstein and Vermeule’s (2009) suggestion that governments
actively try to break up extremist groups that supply conspiracy theories
by “cognitively infiltrating” those groups through methods (3), (4), and
(5) above may be easier to implement. More specifically, “government
agents and their allies (acting either virtually or in real space, either openly
or anonymously) will undermine the crippled epistemology of believers
by planting doubts about the theories and stylized facts that circulate
within such groups, thereby introducing beneficial cognitive diversity”
(Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009, p. 219).
Implicit in this latter strategy is the assumption that conspiracy theories
reflect uncritical acceptance of knowledge and that the provision of more
accurate information may counter the crippled epistemology that char¬
acterizes many conspiracy theorists. To date, however, it remains unclear
whether belief in conspiracy theories diminishes in the face of counter¬
evidence (e.g., Cook, 2003, who argues that the conspiracist mind will
not accept normal modes of evidence). Newheiser et al. (2011) have
provided some evidence that counter-evidence may be useful in reducing
conspiracist ideation, although the effects may be stronger for individuals
who already endorse a competing belief system, such as religion. More¬
over, it seems likely that conspiracy theorists would not openly invite
“cognitive infiltration” and may view such attempts, if uncovered, as fur¬
ther evidence as a conspiratorial plot. The strategy outlined by Sunstein
and Vermeule (2009) further assumes the existence of a well-meaning
government, acting in the best interests of its citizenry, which may or
may not be the case.
Others begin from a different starting point. Goldberg (2004, pp. 259-
60), for example, sees conspiracy theories as reflecting diminished faith
in governance; in turn, if conspiracy theories are to be tackled, then it will
require governments that are transparent, open, and truly democratic:
While candour and openness deter rumour and allegation, an unthinking and
imperious practice of secrecy instinctively raises suspicion. Overreaction, official
deception, and explanations that intentionally obscure provide opportunities for
the conspiracy theorists. They thrive on public disillusionment and the loss of
faith in national leaders and institutions. In such an atmosphere, intelligence
failure readily mutates into conspiracy.
In Goldberg’s view, it is important to begin by understanding what con¬
spiracies say about the problems of governance so that those issues can
be adequately and appropriately addressed. By targeting intelligence fail¬
ures and by assessing aspects of governance that could be improved,
232
Viren Swami and Adrian Furnham
Goldberg suggests that belief in conspiracy theories should begin to
diminish.
Others have applied a similar perspective in suggesting that conspiracy
theories can begin to be tackled by addressing the causes of popular dis¬
content. Swami and Coles (2010), for example, have suggested that the
high prevalence, among British Muslims, of conspiracy theories about the
London bombings of July 7, 2005 reflects, in part at least, the alienation
of British Muslims from mainstream politics and governance. The solu¬
tion, then, is not to further marginalize such groups, but rather to open
up spaces for dialogue and to allow all citizens to actively play a role in
governance. Indeed, there is evidence among African-American samples
to suggest that belief in conspiracy theories is lower among individuals
who believe they can influence the political process (Parsons et al., 1999).
In short, then, until such time as marginalized groups are allowed to par¬
ticipate in, and actively shape, governance, belief in conspiracy theories
may remain high among some sections of society.
What, then, is to be done? Extending Goldberg’s (2001, 2004) line of
reasoning, we contend that blaming (whether implicitly or explicitly) con¬
spiracy theorists for failing to participate on equal grounds with authority
may prove fruitless. Rather, a more promising strategy would be to ensure
that all forms of governance are transparent, open, and democratic to the
fullest extent. In this view, conspiracy theorists are neither privy to any
hidden truths nor psychopathological in their beliefs. Rather, conspiracy
theories are extensions of the dissatisfaction and disaffection with modes
of governance in many societies. That is, conspiracy theorists should be
seen as desperately attempting to make accountable those governments
that they believe, often with some justification, to have taken part in some
form of deception. By extension, only real democratic change would set
in place the foundations for a society in which harmful and unjustified
conspiracy theories are weakened and ultimately extinguished.
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13 The social dimension of belief
in conspiracy theories
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
Belief in conspiracy theories is a widespread societal phenomenon. For
instance, in 2004, according to a Zogby International poll, 49% of New
York City residents believed that the US government knew in advance
that the 9/11 terrorist strikes were coming and consciously failed to act.
Moreover, 22% of Canadian citizens in 2006 believed that Al-Qaeda
had little or nothing to do with the 9/11 terrorist strikes (for details, see
Sunstein and Vermeule, 2009). Likewise, in 1963 about two-thirds of US
citizens believed in a conspiracy theory regarding the John F. Kennedy
assassination, a figure that was still as high as 56% in 1991 (Pipes, 1997,
p. 15). These statistics underscore that belief in conspiracy theories is not
a trivial phenomenon that is exclusive to a few pathological individuals,
but instead deserves the serious research attention of the social sciences
(see also Robins and Post, 1999).
In the present contribution, we define belief in conspiracy theories
as explanatory beliefs about a number of actors who join together in
secret agreement, and try to achieve a hidden goal which is perceived as
unlawful or malevolent (Zonis and Joseph, 1994, pp. 448-9). One of the
main research findings on this phenomenon is that conspiracy beliefs are
monological in nature: One conspiracy theory reinforces other conspir-
ational ideas, making individuals who believe in one conspiracy theory
more likely to also believe in other conspiracy theories (Goertzel, 1994;
Lewandowski, Oberauer, and Gignac, 2013; Swami, Coles, Stieger et al.,
2011). A recent study reveals that this monological belief system even
applies to conspiracy theories that are mutually exclusive: For instance,
beliefs that Princess Diana staged her own death are positively correlated
with beliefs that Princess Diana was assassinated (Wood, Douglas, and
Sutton, 2012).
Recent empirical studies have examined conspiracy beliefs from vari¬
ous perpectives. Consistent with the idea that conspiracy beliefs are part
of a monological belief system, many studies have been conducted on
how stable individual differences predict people’s susceptibility to such
237
238
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
beliefs. This line of research indicates that conspiracy beliefs are pre¬
dicted by, for instance, increased hostility, increased support for demo¬
cratic principles, lower self-esteem, lower crystallized intelligence, lower
interpersonal trust, and increased paranormal beliefs (e.g., Abalakina-
Paap, Stephan, Craig et al. , 1999; Goertzel, 1994; Swami et al., 2011).
Furthermore, various studies have focused on the underlying motivations
for people to believe in conspiracy theories. This line of research assumes
that conspiracy beliefs are a motivated response that originates from peo¬
ple’s basic sense-making desires, leading them to actively make assump¬
tions about the root causes of distressing social events (Hofstadter, 1966;
cf. Kramer, 1998). Empirical findings indeed suggest that experiencing
a threat to control makes people more suspicious about the possibility
of conspiracies (Sullivan, Landau, and Rothschild, 2010; Whitson and
Galinsky, 2008). Likewise, the salience of uncertainty stimulates reason¬
ing about conspiracies, potentially increasing such beliefs when political
or corporate leaders are considered to be immoral (van Prooijen and
Jostmann, 2013). These findings indeed underscore the sense-making
function of conspiracy beliefs, as threats to control and feelings of uncer¬
tainty have frequently been noted to prompt mental efforts to make sense
of societal events (Heine, Proulx, and Vohs, 2006; Park, 2010; van den
Bos, 2009).
Although these insights are important, the emerging field of research
on belief in conspiracy theories has paid relatively little attention to the
group-dynamic context in which these beliefs might emerge and be sus¬
tained. Notably, conspiracy theories are characterized by an intergroup
context where a powerful out-group threatens the well-being of the per-
ceiver’s fellow in-group members (Kramer and Messick, 1998). This
observation distinguishes conspiracy beliefs in substantial ways from
other, more interpersonal forms of paranoia. The present chapter is
designed to make a novel contribution by illuminating the implications
of the social dimension of belief in conspiracy theories. Specifically, we
pose the question of what group-dynamic processes characterize peo¬
ple’s susceptibility to belief in conspiracy theories, and how these group
dynamics differentiate the sense-making processes underlying conspiracy
beliefs from the sense-making processes underlying more interpersonal
forms of paranoia.
Conspiracy beliefs as perceived intergroup threat
The main assumption that inspired the present chapter is that conspir¬
acy beliefs are intergroup beliefs that are characterized by a maladaptive
method of “us versus them” reasoning. In particular, most conspiracy
The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs
239
beliefs can be framed in terms of beliefs about how a powerful and evil
out-group meets in secret, designing a plot that is harmful to one’s in¬
group. Common examples of such a conspiring out-group are the political
elite (e.g., the US government), corporate leaders (e.g., managers from
within the pharmaceutical industry, or oil companies), scientists (e.g.,
scientists studying climate change or evolution), or, more generally, an
out-group that a perceiver fears or despises (e.g., Muslims, Jews). More¬
over, the alleged conspiracy is typically held accountable for a threat that
is targeted not just at the perceiver but also at the perceiver’s entire in¬
group (e.g., fellow citizens). For instance, people may infer conspiracies
from events that are truly threatening to a collective of people (e.g., a
terrorist strike), but they may also perceive a threat in events that do
not impose physical harm, but are nevertheless assumed to be deceptive
(e.g., beliefs that the NASA faked the Moon landings, or beliefs about
a governmental cover-up of evidence for the existence of extraterrestrial
beings). Despite this wide variety in possible out-groups and sources of
threat, conspiracy beliefs typically converge into assumptions about the
existence of a powerful out-group that actively seeks to deceive, benefit
from, or hurt members of one’s in-group.
The idea that conspiracy beliefs are characterized by an out-group
that is perceived to threaten one’s in-group has strong ties with various
classic social-psychological theories. Intergroup threat generally has been
defined in terms of situations where “one group’s actions, beliefs, or char¬
acteristics challenge the goal attainment or well-being of another group”
(Riek, Mania, and Gaertner, 2006, p. 336). Such perceptions of threat
can take on many forms, such as competition over existing resources
(cf. realistic group-conflict theory; Sherif and Sherif, 1969), conflict¬
ing cultural values (Sears, 1988), and intergroup anxiety (Stephan and
Stephan, 2000). Among the most commonly found consequences of
intergroup threat are negative attitudes to and emotions about the rel¬
evant out-group, as reflected in measures of, for instance, prejudice,
hostility, and anxiety (Riek et al., 2006). The detrimental consequences
of intergroup conflict and threat for perceptions of the out-group are
also described in broader theoretical frameworks such as social iden¬
tity theory (Tajfel and Turner, 1979), self-categorization theory (Turner
and Reynolds, 2012), or optimal distinctiveness theory (Brewer, 2012).
It seems a relatively small conceptual step from such negative out-group
attitudes to beliefs that out-group members are deliberately conspiring to
harm the in-group (see also Crocker, Luhtanen, Broadnax et al., 1999).
Taken together, these considerations suggest that it is theoretically mean¬
ingful to conceptualize conspiracy beliefs in terms of perceived intergroup
threat.
240 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
This intergroup nature distinguishes conspiracy beliefs from more
interpersonal forms of paranoia (Fenigstein and Vanable, 1992). Whereas
such interpersonal paranoia involves suspicious beliefs about the extent
to which others try to hurt a perceiver personally, conspiracy beliefs
constitute a form of collective paranoia that involves suspicions about
the extent to which another group is trying to deceive or hurt one’s
fellow in-group members. This suggests that, contrary to interpersonal
paranoia, the sense-making processes underlying conspiracy beliefs are
guided by strong perceptions of intergroup boundaries. Drawing on
theoretical insights regarding intergroup conflict and threat (e.g., Riek
et al., 2006; Sherif and Sherif, 1969; Tajfel and Turner, 1979), we pro¬
pose in the present chapter that conspiracy beliefs are likely to be asso¬
ciated with feelings of rejection by the out-group, while at the same
time being linked to a strong feeling of connectedness with the in¬
group that is perceived to be under threat. These dynamics distinguish
conspiracy beliefs from interpersonal paranoia, where perceivers typi¬
cally feel personally threatened by their fellow in-group members, and
hence do not experience such a psychological sense of connectedness
with them. In the following, we first more elaborately contrast inter¬
personal paranoia to conspiracy beliefs - which are a form of collective
paranoia (Kramer and Messick, 1998) - in order to outline more specif¬
ically the unique social features of conspiracy beliefs. After that, we state
propositions based on the social dimension of conspiracy beliefs, and
review the preliminary evidence for these propositions in the research
literature.
Interpersonal paranoia versus conspiracy beliefs
Interpersonal paranoia
Interpersonal paranoia refers to the self-relevant suspicious and distrust¬
ful beliefs that one may have about the evil nature of other people’s inten¬
tions and behaviors. We use the label “interpersonal” here to illuminate
the distinction from conspiracy beliefs, but this phenomenon frequently
has been referred to as simply “paranoia” (Fenigstein and Vanable, 1992;
see also Combs and Penn, 2004). The term paranoia is often associ¬
ated with mental illness. Indeed, among some individuals, paranoia is
severely delusional, making it a psychiatric diagnosis, and a symptom of
many clinical disorders (e.g., Bentall, Corcoran, Howard et al., 2001).
But milder variants of interpersonal paranoia are also common among
ordinary people, and can be construed as erroneous perceptions that are
driven by exaggerated distrust and suspicion of others (Kramer, 1998).
The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs
241
To illustrate this, typical questions to measure interpersonal paranoia ask
for participants’ feelings of being followed by others, their beliefs that oth¬
ers have hidden motives to display friendly behavior, or their beliefs that
others are talking about them behind their back (see the paranoia scale;
Fenigstein and Vanable, 1992). A related conceptualization of interper¬
sonal paranoia is the “sinister- attribution error,” which is defined as the
tendency of individuals to “overattribute personalistic and malevolent
motives and intentions to other’s actions” (Kramer, 1994, p. 201). A
central feature of interpersonal paranoia, as well as of the related sinister-
attribution error, is its self-referential nature: The actions of other people
or groups are directly aimed at a perceiver personally.
Due to this self-referential aspect, it has been noted that public self-
consciousness increases interpersonally paranoid beliefs. This link has
been established empirically by Fenigstein and Vanable (1992), who
found consistent relations between public self-consciousness and the
paranoia scale, as well as with measures assessing the extent to which par¬
ticipants felt watched when performing tasks. Likewise, it has been argued
that people who feel different or “stand out” within a group - and hence
experience elevated public self-consciousness - tend to overestimate the
extent to which they are being evaluated by their fellow group members
(Kramer, 1998). This conceptualization of public self-consciousness sug¬
gests that interpersonal paranoia is a within-group phenomenon whereby
a perceiver feels like an outsider who is closely monitored, and possibly
threatened, by others.
The assertion that interpersonal paranoia is a within-group phe¬
nomenon was underscored in a study by Kramer (1994), who tested
the role of tenure in organizations on the sinister-attribution error. The
participants were either first- or second-year master of business admin¬
istration (MBA) students, who read a series of vignettes describing how
they were victimized by another first- or second-year MBA student. For
each vignette, they were given two possible attributions for the perpetra¬
tor’s behavior - one was a personalistic attribution that implied that the
perpetrator intentionally sought to hurt the target, and the other was a
nonpersonalistic attribution that implied that the perpetrator harmed the
target unintentionally. The results revealed more interpersonal paranoia
among newcomers. First-year MBA students made more personalistic
attributions than second-year MBA students for the same behaviors.
Moreover, this effect was strongest when the perpetrator was a second-
year MBA student. These results suggest that people who are new in
a group - and hence experience heightened self-consciousness, particu¬
larly when interacting with people who have been longer in the group -
experience more paranoid cognitions in interpersonal interactions.
242
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
Interpersonal paranoia reflects fundamental psychological assump¬
tions about the generally malevolent nature of other people’s intentions;
therefore, it stands to reason that interpersonal paranoia is related to
conspiracy beliefs. As a case in point, it is likely that both interpersonal
paranoia and conspiracy beliefs are to some extent grounded in the “myth
of self-interest,” which states that people have a tendency to overinterpret
the extent to which other people’s behavior is driven by selfish motivations
(Miller and Ratner, 1998). For instance, the myth of self-interest may be
relied on when people deal with incomplete information to understand
others’ behavior. In many social situations, people do not know how other
people behaved, and they “fill in the blanks” with assumptions about self¬
ishness (Vuolevi and van Lange, 2010). These arguments suggest impor¬
tant conceptual relations between interpersonal paranoia and conspiracy
beliefs, which both are characterized by mistrustful expectations that
are related to uncertainty (Kramer, 1998; van Prooijen and Jostmann,
2013). Indeed, empirical studies found moderate but significant corre¬
lations between paranoia and conspiracy beliefs (e.g., Darwin, Neave,
and Holmes, 2011; see also Wilson and Rose, this volume). Hence, it is
important to stress that in the present chapter we do not intend to argue
that the processes underlying interpersonal paranoia are fully distinct
from the processes underlying conspiracy beliefs. But at the same time, it
must be recognized that the correlation between interpersonal paranoia
and conspiracy beliefs is typically far from perfect, and we argue that this
is due to the social dimension of belief in conspiracy theories.
The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs
Whereas interpersonal paranoia is a within-group phenomenon (Fenig-
stein and Vanable, 1992; Kramer, 1998), belief in conspiracy theories
typically is a between-group phenomenon. One of the implications of
this distinction is that the processes driving interpersonal paranoia must
be conceptualized at the group level to predict conspiracy beliefs. For
instance, whereas feeling like an outsider within a group may predict
interpersonal paranoia (Kramer, 1994), it is less clear whether such feel¬
ings of being excluded by fellow in-group members also predict con¬
spiracy beliefs. After all, conspiracy beliefs emerge out of sense-making
processes in the context of an intergroup threat, and it stands to reason
that one needs to experience some concern for the well-being of fellow
in-group members in order to be motivated to make sense of social fac¬
tors threatening to damage that well-being. Instead, feeling that one’s
entire group is marginalized in a broader social context - which may
prompt feelings of intergroup threat - is likely to be a strong predictor of
The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs
243
conspiracy beliefs. Indeed, empirical evidence supports the notion that
conspiracy beliefs are stronger among marginalized minority groups in
society than among the dominant majority group.
An example of this phenomenon can be found in studies compar¬
ing conspiracy beliefs among African-Americans and those among white
Americans. Various authors have noted that African-Americans are more
likely to believe in conspiracy theories than white Americans (e.g.,
Turner, 1993). An empirical demonstration of this effect was provided
by Crocker et al. (1999), who compared black and white US college stu¬
dents on thirteen common conspiracy beliefs about how the US govern¬
ment tries to harm the African-American community (e.g., belief that
the virus that causes AIDS was created in a laboratory to infect black
people; or belief that the US government deliberately assigns the death
penalty more to black males than to white males) . The results indicated
that black college students were more strongly inclined to believe these
conspiracy theories that are directly targeted at their in-group than white
college students. Moreover, these findings were attributable to percep¬
tions of system blame - that is, the extent to which realistic problems of
the black community are perceived as a result of prejudice and discrim¬
ination. The latter finding underscores the role of perceived intergroup
threat in conspiracy beliefs (cf. Riek et al., 2006).
Various other studies support both the robustness of this phenomenon,
as well as its malevolent consequences for the black community in the
USA. The robustness of this phenomenon was illuminated in a study by
Simmons and Parsons (2005) among African-Americans. These authors
drew an empirical comparison between the black “elite” (i.e., locally
elected officials in the state of Louisiana) and the “masses” (i.e., a sam¬
ple of churchgoers). The results indicated that these groups do not differ
in their endorsement of conspiracy beliefs. These findings reveal that low-
and high-status members of a marginalized group are equally susceptible
to conspiracy beliefs, suggesting that it is perceived group deprivation,
not perceived personal deprivation, that drives these beliefs. Moreover,
conspiracy beliefs may be harmful not only to the group but also to the
well-being of individual group members. A study by Thornburn and
Bogart (2005) illuminates these individually harmful consequences of
group-based conspiracy beliefs. In a sample of African-Americans, they
investigated conspiracy beliefs about contraceptives (e.g., the belief that
birth control is a governmental plot to wipe out the African-American
population). Although the precise numbers varied per specific conspir¬
acy belief, roughly one-third of respondents indicated agreement with
items referring to birth control as a means to control or reduce the black
population, as well as with items expressing doubt about the safety of
244 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
contraceptives. These conspiracy beliefs were a strong predictor of atti¬
tudes towards contraceptives, as well as contraceptive use, in both men
and women. These findings underscore that group-based conspiracy
beliefs can have detrimental individual consequences, such as (in this
particular example) the likelihood of unintended pregnancies, and the
spread of sexually transmitted diseases.
A feeling of group marginalization is one possible antecedent of per¬
ceived intergroup threat, but it must be noted that other antecedents of
intergroup threat - such as prejudice, intergroup hostility, and ideology -
are also a potent source of conspiracy beliefs. For instance, Swami (2012)
found evidence for Jewish conspiracy beliefs in a Malaysian sample
(example items referred, for instance, to beliefs that Jews cause eco¬
nomic crises in Malaysia for their own end, and that Jews are attempting
to establish a secret world government). These beliefs were particularly
predicted by indicators of prejudice and racism, such as anti-Israeli atti¬
tudes, social dominance orientation, and right-wing authoritarianism. It
has more generally been noted that societal or ethnic groups that in the
past have frequently been the target of discrimination or collective vic¬
timization (e.g., Jews. Muslims. Gypsies) have also frequently been the
accused actor in many conspiracy theories (Pipes, 1997). In a related
vein, differing political ideologies may also pose a source of intergroup
threat, and hence a basis for belief in conspiracy theories when mak¬
ing sense of threatening events. This idea was illustrated by Wright and
Arbuthnot (1974), who, in a US sample, assessed perceptions of the
Watergate affair before the Senate hearings in 1973 (i.e., before Nixon’s
personal involvement was proven) . The results revealed that Democrats
were more suspicious about the involvement of high officials, including
the president, than Republicans were. This case may be special in the
sense that it pertained to a conspiracy theory that eventually turned out
to be true, but that is beside the point of the current contribution. It was
intergroup threat, caused by political ideology, that stimulated endorse¬
ment of these beliefs.
In sum, belief in conspiracy theories is to some extent rooted in the
psychological dynamics underlying intergroup threat. These dynamics
suggest two core propositions that underline the unique features that dis¬
tinguish conspiracy beliefs from interpersonal paranoia. The first propo¬
sition is that conspiracy beliefs emerge through feelings of collective vul¬
nerability that are caused by rejection by powerful out-group members;
this in contrast with interpersonal paranoia that emerges as a function of
feeling singled out for rejection in an interpersonal or within-group set¬
ting (Kramer, 1994). Indeed, these negative intergroup perceptions are
a defining element of intergroup threat, particularly when the out-group
The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs
245
is perceived as powerful (cf. Riek et al., 2006). One may therefore predict
that conspiracy beliefs are related to feelings of oppression or exclusion by
the powerful groups that are the suspected actors in conspiracy theories,
such as politicians and corporate leaders. The second proposition is that
conspiracy theories are associated with a strong sense of connectedness
with victimized in-group members (e.g., fellow citizens), as reflected in,
for instance, an activated social self-construal that emphasizes similari¬
ties between self and in-group members, perspective-taking efforts, and
a concern for the well-being of other citizens that are victimized by the
perceived conspiracy. This second proposition is underscored by various
theories on intergroup perceptions and conflict, which assume that the
existence of a threatening out-group increases within-group identifica¬
tion, cohesion, and harmony (e.g., Sherif and Sherif, 1969; Tajfel and
Turner, 1979). In the following section, we discuss the evidence for both
propositions in turn.
Feeling rejected by a powerful out-group
The first proposition - that conspiracy beliefs are associated with feel¬
ings of rejection by a powerful out-group - corresponds with a frequently
noted characteristic of conspiracy believers. They typically feel that they
are not in touch with, or that they are being oppressed by, the powerful
out-group that is accused of secret conspiracy formation (e.g., the politi¬
cal elite). In his seminal work, Hofstadter (1966) had already noted that
conspiracy beliefs predominantly emerge because citizens feel powerless
or voiceless in the political debate. This lack of participation may be
associated with the experience of lacking control, which has been found
to predict conspiracy beliefs in various studies (Sullivan et al., 2010;
Whitson and Galinsky, 2008). But more generally, one may expect a
relation between conspiracy beliefs and variables that suggest feelings of
rejection by power holders.
Such a relation was supported in a variety of correlational studies. For
instance, Goertzel (1994) found a correlation between anomie - opera¬
tionalized as feelings of discontent with common institutions in society -
and conspiracy beliefs. Interestingly, these feelings of anomie partially
mediated the link between minority status (i.e., black vs. white respon¬
dents) and conspiracy beliefs. It thus seems that the previously described
phenomenon that minority groups in society are more susceptible to con¬
spiracy beliefs can be partly attributed to their feelings of being rejected
by legitimate and powerful institutions in society.
Other studies also reported robust correlations between belief in con¬
spiracy theories and indicators of feelings of rejection by power holders.
246 Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paid A. M. van Lange
For instance, Abalakina-Paap et al. (1999) replicated the finding that
anomie is correlated with conspiracy beliefs. Moreover, various studies
found significant correlations between conspiracy beliefs and variables
that arguably indicate a feeling of rejection by power holders. Notably,
two such variables are political cynicism and attitudes to authority, and
research robustly indicates that higher political cynicism and more nega¬
tive attitudes to authority are associated with stronger conspiracy beliefs
(Swami, Chamorro-Premuzic, and Furnham, 2010; Swami et al., 2011).
Naturally, these findings are limited by their correlational nature, and
an important avenue for future research is to complement these findings
by testing the causal effect of rejection by a powerful out-group on con¬
spiracy beliefs. But the findings presented here are consistent with our
first proposition, which was derived from a model positing conspiracy
beliefs as a consequence of perceived intergroup threat. This perception
of intergroup threat may be fueled by the feeling that one is alienated
from, or directly rejected by, a powerful out-group.
Feeling connected with the in-group
The second proposition - that conspiracy beliefs are associated with the
feeling of being psychologically connected with one’s fellow in-group
members - admittedly is most speculative in our line of reasoning given
the paucity of published evidence for it. Nevertheless, based on well-
accepted theoretical insights, various published studies on related topics,
and preliminary findings in our own lab, we will make the case that
conspiracy beliefs are to some extent driven by a perception of the self
as connected with the victimized or threatened citizens. This statement
is consistent with, for instance, realistic group-conflict theory (Sherif
and Sherif, 1969) and social-identity theory (Tajfel and Turner, 1979)
that describe the within-group dynamics of intergroup threat, leading
to increased identification and cohesion. Moreover, our second proposi¬
tion is in line with more specific theorizing on conspiracy beliefs which
assumes that such beliefs originate from a desire to make sense of dis¬
tressing events (Hofstadter, 1966; Sullivan et al., 2010; van Prooijen and
Jostmann, 2013; Whitson and Galinsky, 2008). It stands to reason that
people find societal events particularly distressing - thereby eliciting the
sense-making processes underlying conspiracy beliefs - if they are per¬
ceived to be harmful to citizens that they feel psychologically connected
with. After all, such psychological connections imply that the others are
part of their own self-concept, leading them to experience events that
harm fellow citizens as indirectly also harming themselves. Moreover, if
a perceiver feels detached from fellow citizens, and is hence indifferent
The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs
247
to the suffering or possible deception that is imposed upon them, the
perceiver is less likely to engage in sense-making processes.
These theoretical notions are reminiscent of just-world theory (Lerner
and Miller, 1978), a theory that is specifically designed to understand
how people make sense of the suffering of innocent others. This the¬
ory posits the fundamental belief that people generally get what they
deserve - and hence, deserve what they get - implying that good things
happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. Seeing
how an innocent person is victimized poses a threat to this just-world
belief, and prompts a motivation to restore this belief. One possible way
to restore just-world beliefs is by reinterpreting the event so that it no
longer appears to be unjust, such as through victim blaming. Believing
that victims somehow deserve their fate can make their suffering seem
deserved (Hafer, 2000; Lerner and Simmons, 1966; van Prooijen and van
den Bos, 2009). Likewise, people may restore just-world beliefs through
perceived benefits - that is, the belief that the victimization event has
long-term benefits for the victim (e.g., assuming that the incident made
the victim a better person in the long run). These benefit perceptions
portray the event as one that may have been unfair, but nevertheless had
meaning and purpose (Warner and Branscombe, 201 1). As such, mental
strategies such as victim blaming and benefit finding serve a comparable
mental function to belief in conspiracy theories - that is, to understand,
and make sense of, distressing social events (Hofstadter, 1966; van Prooi¬
jen and Jostmann, 2013; Whitson and Galinsky, 2008). Of relevance to
the current discussion, Lerner and Miller (1978, p. 1031) noted that
these various sense-making strategies are particularly prominent when
one is confronted by the victimization of others that one feels psycho¬
logically connected with. They argued that people are mostly concerned
about injustice in their own direct social environment, and relatively less
so about injustices elsewhere that have little relevance to their own fate.
Empirical findings indeed support the more general idea that a psy¬
chological connection through a shared social identity may stimulate
perceivers’ sense-making efforts when they are confronted by events that
are harmful to others. For instance, Correia, Vala, and Aguiar (2007)
found evidence that people’s just world is threatened more strongly by
the victimization of an in-group member than an out-group member.
This stronger threat prompts a stronger need to make sense of events to
the extent that one perceives the self as connected to the victim, which
may paradoxically lead to more negative reactions under some conditions.
This was illustrated by Novak and Lerner (1968), who manipulated how
attitudinally similar or dissimilar participants were to another partici¬
pant, and then received information that this other participant was either
248
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
normal or emotionally disturbed. The results revealed that, when the
other was emotionally disturbed, participants were less willing to inter¬
act with the similar other than with the dissimilar other. Similarly, van
Prooijen and van den Bos (2009) primed participants with either the
individual self (i.e., the part of the self-concept that stresses differen¬
tiation from others) or the social self (i.e., the part of the self-concept
that stresses similarity with others). Subsequently, they were confronted
with a crime victim that was either not threatening to just-world beliefs
(i.e., the perpetrator was caught and hence got what he deserved) or
threatening to just-world beliefs (i.e., the perpetrator was not caught and
hence got away with his crime; cf. Hafer, 2000). The results showed
that when the situation was threatening to just-world beliefs, particularly
participants who were primed with the social self were inclined to blame
the victim. Taken together, these findings underscore that observers are
particularly motivated to make sense of events that are harmful to people
that they feel connected to, even though this may sometimes result in
increased negative perceptions of, or behaviors towards, these people.
Preliminary findings in our own lab underscore that similar under¬
lying processes are relevant to explain conspiracy beliefs. For instance,
van Prooijen and van Dijk (2012) provided participants with a bogus
newspaper article in which an influential African opposition leader, who
was about to win the upcoming election, was the victim of a car crash.
They manipulated the size of the threat that was imposed by this event:
The opposition leader either died in the crash, leading the election to
be postponed until further notice (big threat), or survived the crash with
only minor injuries, and the election would proceed as planned (small
threat). Through perspective taking it was also varied how psychologically
close or distant participants felt towards this event. Specifically, before
reading the article, the participants were either instructed to take the per¬
spective of the citizens of the African country and to imagine that they
were born in that country (perspective-taking condition), or they were
instructed to evaluate the event as objectively as possible (control con¬
dition). The perspective-taking instructions increased the participants’
sense of identification with, and emotional involvement in, the African
country. Importantly, the results revealed the strongest conspiracy beliefs
following a big threat, but only among participants in the perspective¬
taking condition. Thus, instructions that increased the extent to which
participants experienced the self as connected to the victims of a threat¬
ening event made participants more susceptible to conspiracy beliefs.
In sum, one of the inferences from the general observation that con¬
spiracy beliefs can be conceptualized as a form of intergroup threat is that
these beliefs are associated with a relatively strong sense of connectedness
The social dimension of conspiracy beliefs
249
with the group that is perceived to be under threat. Although further
study is necessary to provide more conclusive support for this theoretical
proposition, it is at present consistent with various theoretical insights
as well as with preliminary empirical findings. Such a sense of connect¬
edness with fellow group members underscores the social dimension of
belief in conspiracy theories.
Concluding remarks
Inspired by theories on intergroup threat, the present chapter had the
purpose of illuminating the social dimension of conspiracy beliefs, and
how this social dimension distinguishes conspiracy beliefs from more
interpersonal forms of paranoia. Two main propositions emerged. First,
whereas interpersonal paranoia is a within-group phenomenon that is
characterized by perceivers who feel excluded by fellow group members,
conspiracy beliefs constitute a collective phenomenon that is character¬
ized by perceivers who believe that they and their group are oppressed
and excluded by a powerful out-group. This distinction is reminiscent of
theorizing on personal versus group (i.e., fraternal) deprivation, which
pertains to the relative disadvantage that one perceives at either the per¬
sonal or group level. It is noteworthy that the consequences of these
forms of deprivation differ substantially, as personal deprivation leads
to inward-focused reactions such as anxiety and depression, whereas
fraternal deprivation is more strongly associated with outward-oriented
responses such as protest and collective action (e.g., Tyler, Boeckmann,
Smith et ai, 1997, p. 27). As such, it is possible that conspiracy beliefs
similarly are more likely to stimulate action tendencies in perceivers than
interpersonal paranoia, a hypothesis that needs further testing. Indeed,
one might speculate that conspiracy beliefs pose a more serious danger
to society than interpersonal paranoia, as these action tendencies may
potentially turn violent when conspiracy believers seek for ways to free
their group from the oppression that they perceive.
The second proposition that emerged in the present chapter is that,
whereas interpersonal paranoia is likely to lead to feelings of individ¬
ual separation within a group, conspiracy beliefs are more likely to
be associated with a sense of connectedness with in-group members.
Although this point has not been explicitly recognized in theorizing on
belief in conspiracy theories, it may have important implications as it
prompts the prediction that conspiracy beliefs are most likely to flourish
in the context of disadvantaged but highly cohesive groups. Moreover, it
underscores the possibility that conspiracy believers are partly motivated
by genuinely social concerns such as the well-being of fellow citizens.
250
Jan-Willem van Prooijen and Paul A. M. van Lange
And going one step further, one might speculate that conspiracy beliefs
are likely to be reinforced in a cohesive in-group that feels deprived or
disadvantaged. In other words, the sense-making process is unlikely to
be merely an individual process. Cohesive groups communicate in small
networks and openly exchange their beliefs, and such social processes
are likely to reinforce rather than undermine conspiracy beliefs. If any¬
thing, such processes strengthen the confidence with which conspiracy
beliefs are held, and perhaps lead to individual or collective action that
might be experienced as inexplicable and potentially threatening to those
who are not part of this network and who do not hold such conspiracy
beliefs.
In summary, whereas recent developments in the field of research on
belief in conspiracy theories mainly focused either on individual differ¬
ences (Abalakina-Paap etal., 1999; Goertzel, 1994; Swami etal., 201 1) or
on the sense-making motivations underlying conspiracy beliefs (Sullivan
et al., 2010; van Prooijen and Jostmann, 2013; Whitson and Galinsky,
2008), our aim was to highlight the dynamic social structures that are
fundamental to conspiracy beliefs. The main conclusion that we derive
from the literature reviewed here is that conspiracy beliefs can be fruit¬
fully conceptualized as a consequence of perceived intergroup threat. The
implications of the insights presented here may be useful in fundamental
research on group-based paranoia and distrust, as well as in applications
where policymakers seek to reduce, or anticipate, the paranoid responses
of citizens to, for instance, political or corporate decision-making. More
generally, it is our hope that the suggestions of the present chapter may
inspire research and application in the rapidly emerging field of research
on paranoia, distrust, and belief in conspiracy theories.
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14 Examining the monological nature
of conspiracy theories
Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas
Conspiracy theories attribute socially significant events to secret plots
and schemes by powerful, unaccountable forces (Coady, 2006; Dou¬
glas and Sutton, 2008, 2011; Goertzel, 1994; McCauley and Jacques,
1979). These proposed conspiracies typically involve sinister motives
and unjust actions that are withheld from public knowledge. For exam¬
ple, popular contemporary conspiracy theories contend that the 9/11
attacks were planned and carried out by elements within the American
government (Kay, 2011; Swami, Chamorro-Premuzic, and Furnham,
2010), that Princess Diana was assassinated by members of the British
Establishment (Douglas and Sutton, 2008, 2011), and that governments
are hiding evidence of the existence of extraterrestrial aliens (Goertzel,
1994). Of course, such proposed conspiracies are not always false - the
Watergate scandal is a good example of a “true” conspiracy. However
the majority of conspiracy theories lack evidential support and are resis¬
tant to falsification (Clarke, 2002). Also, conspiracy theories may have
important social consequences, such as decreased engagement with pol¬
itics, society, the environment, and health behaviors (Bird and Bogart,
2003; Bogart and Thorburn, 2006; Butler, Koopman, and Zimbardo,
1995; Jolley and Douglas, in press).
There is a growing body of research examining the psychological
underpinnings of belief in conspiracy theories (e.g., Abalakina-Paap,
Stephan, Craig et al., 1999; Douglas and Sutton, 2008, 2011; Jolley
and Douglas, in press; Swami, Chamorro-Muzic, Furnham et al., 2010;
Swami, Coles, Stieger et al., 2011; van Prooijen and Jostmann, 2013;
Wood, Douglas, and Sutton, 2012). Some work categorizes believers
as paranoid individuals whose judgment is affected as the result of an
“uncommonly angry mind” (Hofstadter, 1971, pp. 2-3), or due to
paranoia, delusional thinking, or other psychopathologies (e.g., Groh,
1987; Plomin and Post, 1997). Other correlates of conspiracy beliefs
include anomie, distrust of authority, powerlessness, political cynicism
(Abakalina-Paap et al., 1999; Goertzel, 1994; Swami et al., 2010), lack of
254
The monological nature of conspiracy theories
255
control (Whitson and Galinsky, 2008), and Machiavellianism (Douglas
and Sutton, 2011).
On the positive side, belief in conspiracy theories has been associated
with openness to experience (Swami etal., 2010; Swami, Pietschnig, Tran
et al., 2013) and support for democratic principles (Swami et al ., 2011).
This last finding may seem surprising to those struck by the capacity
of conspiracy theories to foment political cynicism. It is less puzzling
if we consider that support for the right to dissent is a key component
of democratic values, and features prominently in the measure used by
Swami et al. (2011). For example, one of the nine items is, “Everyone
should have the right to express their opinion even if it differs from
the majority”; another is, “Everyone should have the right to take their
convictions to the street if necessary” (Kaase, 1971). It makes sense for
possessors of minority, dissenting opinions to affirm the democratic right
to express them. Further, research in political science suggests that those
who are especially distrustful of state institutions are also especially likely
to affirm democratic values (Barnes, Kaase, Allerback et al ., 1979). Thus,
conspiracy beliefs may coincide with a sense that idealized democratic
principles are being thwarted.
However, the most consistent finding on the psychology of conspiracy
theories, often used as an explanation for their popularity and persistence,
is that belief in one particular conspiracy theory is predicted by belief in
other theories - even when they refer to completely unrelated events and
protagonists (e.g., Douglas and Sutton, 2011; Goertzel, 1994; Swami
et al., 2010, 201 1). This is an important finding for several reasons. First,
it provides some support for the lay notion that there is such a thing as a
“conspiracy theorist,” who, far from singling out a particular event, will
tend to take a sideways view of many major events in society (for an inter¬
esting discussion of the pejorative use of this label, see Husting and Orr,
2007). Second, it shows that it makes sense to examine the psychology of
conspiracism - that is, the situational and personality variables that predis¬
pose people to believe in conspiracy theories. If conspiracy theories did
not hang together in people’s minds, it would be very difficult to research
this topic - indeed, we could scarcely say that the topic existed. Instead,
we would be confined to examining what leads people to accept or reject
a particular conspiracy theory. We would then need to start again when
examining the determinants of belief in any other conspiracy theory. Fur¬
ther, we would not be able to ask, “why do conspiracy theories matter?” -
that is, we could not examine their impact on individuals and societies.
Instead we would be confined to the idiographic study of the presumably
unique and rather local consequences of individual conspiracy theories.
256
Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas
The key question that we address in this chapter is, why do conspiracy
theories flock together in this way? In other words, what causes people
who believe one conspiracy theory to be more likely to believe another? At first
glance, this question may seem obvious or trivial: Of course, they flock
together, since they are “of a feather,” sharing important semantic fea¬
tures. To believe in any conspiracy theory is to believe that authorities
can be malevolent, that they can conceal their evil-doing, and that offi¬
cial explanations for major events may be lies. Accepting these premises
makes it much easier to accept any other conspiracy theory.
However, this semantic similarity is not enough to explain why beliefs
in various conspiracy theories are correlated. Since people’s beliefs are
not always logically coherent (Billig, 1996; Monroe and Read, 2008;
Rydell, McConnell, Mackie et al, 2006), the shared premises of con¬
spiracy theories do not guarantee that people who believe in one will
endorse others. Further, as we have already seen, conspiracy theories
vary enormously in the events they explain and the agents they blame.
They also vary in their political, cultural, and semantic meaning. Con¬
sider, for example, the left-leaning conspiracy theory that oil companies
plot to discredit evidence that use of their product is warming the planet,
and the right-leaning theory that governments and scientists deliberately
exaggerate the risk of anthropogenic climate change (Weingart, Engels,
and Pansegrau, 2000) . With such different and often mutually incompat¬
ible content, it is by no means obvious why these theories tend to come
together in the minds of some people.
The monological belief system
The predominant explanation for the clustering of conspiracy beliefs is
that they comprise part of a monological belief system. Goertzel (1994), the
original champion of this view, wrote:
[BJelief systems can be characterized as dialogical or monological. Dialogical
belief systems engage in a dialogue with their context, while monological systems
speak only to themselves, ignoring their context in all but the shallowest respects,
(p. 739)
So for Goertzel (1994), a key feature of monological belief systems is what
we might call a closed epistemology. Beliefs are evaluated according to their
coherence with other beliefs in the system, rather than external data.
Goertzel (1994) also identified a related but distinct feature of mono-
logical belief systems. This is what we might call a nomothetic (vs. idio-
graphic) explanatory style. Instead of explaining a specific event in terms
of a full description of the particular details of events leading up to it,
The monological nature of conspiracy theories
257
Goertzel suggests that monological conspiracy thinkers resort to general¬
ized explanations that appeal to a (malign) pattern of events in the world:
[T]he proof which is offered is not evidence about the specific incident or issue,
but the general pattern; for example, the X conspiracy has been responsible for
all of our other problems, so it is obvious that X must be responsible for this
one as well. For example, Crenshaw (1992) observed that black women have
been racially and sexually abused by the white male power structure throughout
American history. She then simply assumed that Anita Hill’s allegations should
be viewed as an example of this pattern, never stopping to examine the factual
basis for the particular allegations at hand.1 (p. 741)
In sum, Goertzel (1994) identifies two key features of the monologi¬
cal conspiracist mind-set: a closed epistemology in which adherents are
indifferent to evidence, preferring to rely on their previous beliefs, and a
nomothetic explanatory style in which each event is explained in terms
of general patterns in the world rather than the unique, proximal con¬
ditions that might have brought it about. These two forces combine to
bring conspiracy theories together in an adherent’s mind. Once a con¬
spiracy theory is accepted, it provides internal epistemological support
for other conspiracy beliefs. Further, believing in several conspiracy theo¬
ries creates a subjective world in which events are frequently orchestrated
by sinister forces, and this pattern serves as a schematic framework for
explaining new events. Note that this set of psychological processes is
relatively cold or unmotivated. If it is motivated, the motive is to protect
“the belief system” from disconfirmation:
Conspiratorial beliefs are useful in monological belief systems since they provide
an easy, automatic explanation for any new phenomenon which might threaten
the belief system. In a monological belief system, each of the beliefs serves as
evidence for each of the other beliefs. The more conspiracies a monological
thinker believes in, the more likely he or she is to believe in any new conspiracy
theory which may be proposed. Thus African-Americans, who are more likely
to be aware of the Tuskegee syphilis conspiracy, are predisposed to believe that
AIDS may also be a conspiracy, while this idea may seem absurd to people who
are unfamiliar with past medical abuses. (Goertzel, 1994, p. 740)
Problems for the monological position
As elegant as it is, there are several major problems with the monological
belief system’s position on conspiracy theorizing, which we shall now
i Goertzel refers to allegations of sexual harassment, made in televised hearings in 1991,
by Anita Hill against Clarence Thomas, who was nominated for appointment to the US
Supreme Court. The case sharply divided public opinion.
258
Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas
outline. We suggest that the monological view glosses over the fact that
conspiracy theories are not necessarily mutually supportive, that it lacks
evidence, that it is not parsimonious, and that alternatives are more
plausible.
Conspiracy theories are not mutually supportive
Some conspiracy theories do not support one another and may indeed
provide mutually contradictory explanations for the same event. For
example, conspiracy theories surrounding the death of Princess Diana
vary widely - some propose that she was assassinated by secret agents
on behalf of the royal family, others argue that she was assassinated by
Mohamed Al-Fayed’s business partners, and others allege that she faked
her own death and is still living somewhere in isolation, away from the
prying eyes of the paparazzi. If indeed Princess Diana was assassinated,
the royal family and Al-Fayed’s business partners could not both have
been independently responsible for her death. Also, she cannot be both
dead and alive at the same time. So, these conspiracy theories cannot be
mutually supportive. In a closed epistemology, in which people’s beliefs
in conspiracy A are a primary resource for assessing the truth of mutually
incompatible conspiracy B, believers in A ought to be especially likely to
reject B.
Some of our research shows clearly that this does not happen (Wood
et al. , 2012). We first examined relationships between a range of conspir¬
acy theories surrounding the death of Princess Diana (Study 1). Here, we
established that participants’ agreement with “dead” conspiracy theories
(e.g., there was an official campaign to kill Diana) were positively corre¬
lated with their endorsement of the “alive” conspiracy theory (i.e., Diana
faked her own death) . In a second study, we examined similar conspiracy
theories surrounding the death of Osama bin Laden and again found
that participants who endorsed the theory that bin Laden was already
dead at the time of the raid in Pakistan also tended to endorse the theory
that he is still alive somewhere. Crucially, we also included an additional
question to test the hypothesis that an overarching belief concerning a
cover-up may explain why people hold mutually contradictory conspiracy
beliefs. We asked participants to rate their agreement with the statement
that the Obama government is “hiding some important or damaging
piece of information.” The results revealed that the correlation between
“dead” and “alive” conspiracy theories was no longer significant when
participants’ level of agreement that there was a cover-up was taken into
account.
The monological nature of conspiracy theories
259
Conspiracy theories therefore appear to be defined not by their adher¬
ence to a particular account, but by the belief that some kind of deception
is taking place. Along a similar vein to an argument advanced by Adorno,
Frenkel-Brunswik, Levinson era/. (1950) concerning incompatible anti-
Semitic attitudes, incompatible conspiracy beliefs may be held concur¬
rently because they are explained by their coherence with “nuclear ideas”
that pull ideas together to form an ideological system. To be fair, it might
be that these findings merely require us to refine, rather than discard,
the monological view of conspiracy theories. Perhaps some conspiracy
theories are mutually contradictory, but they are mutually supportive
in that they each feed, and are fed by, a central distrust of authority.
Nonetheless, it is clearly misleading to contrast conspiracy theories only
with official, nonconspiracist accounts of events. It is also necessary to
contrast them with each other. As soon as we do this, we see that they do
not live in the straightforwardly internally consistent symbiosis implied
by the monological account.
Lack of evidence
A more serious problem is that there is no empirical evidence for key
tenets of the monological position. It is clear that conspiracy beliefs are
positively correlated (e.g., Goertzel, 1994; Swami etal., 201 1, 2013), but
it is not clear why. For example, the monological view holds that conspir¬
acy theorists are especially prone to a nomothetic explanatory style, but
there is no evidence that these people explain events in more abstract,
general, less case-specific terms. Indeed, even a cursory examination of
websites devoted to conspiracies, such as that of the 9/11 Truth Move¬
ment, appears to reveal a deep rhetorical attachment to case-specific
facts, true or not, regarding the melting point of steel, the burning tem¬
perature of aviation fuel, the way the buildings collapsed, and the collapse
of neighboring buildings, inter alia (see also Griffin, 2009).
Further, there is little evidence that conspiracy theorists have a gener¬
ally closed epistemology. Indeed, some findings suggest that such indi¬
viduals may tend to be somewhat more open to experience (Swami et al.,
2010, 2013). To be sure, there is something inherent in a conspiracy
belief that may make disconfirmation difficult, since these beliefs cast
doubt on usually trusted sources of information (Wood et al ., 2012).
Thus, efforts by authorities to dispel conspiracy theories are likely to fail
and even to backfire - new official explanations or evidence may be disbe¬
lieved and, even worse, seen as further evidence of a cover-up (Sunstein
and Vermeule, 2009). This property of conspiracy theories may make
260
Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas
them effective memes - that is, cognitive representations that tend to
withstand disconfirmation and become culturally entrenched (Dawkins,
1976; Mesoudi, 2009). However, even if research eventually shows con¬
spiracy theories to be resistant to evidence, this would not mean that the
people who believe in them have a more general, closed-minded mind-set
more generally. In other words, we cannot necessarily extrapolate from
properties of the “sin” (a conspiracy theory) to broader dispositions of
the “sinner” (a conspiracy theorist).
Lack of parsimony and viability of simpler alternatives
A related problem for the position is that it is not parsimonious: The
correlations among various conspiracy beliefs can be explained in other,
simpler ways, without invoking a closed epistemology or a nomothetic
explanatory style. Recall, for example, the principle of “spurious correla¬
tion” from basic statistical training. If variable A predicts variables B and
C, B and C will tend to be correlated, even if there is no causal relation
between them. Thus, conspiracy beliefs would tend to be associated with
each other, so long as they were affected by a common predictor. This
would be true even if they had no causal relationship to each other, or,
indeed, nothing else in common. And of course, conspiracy theories do
have certain semantic features in common, so that their shared relation¬
ship with predictors is by no means coincidental. Specifically, because of
their shared meaning, they tend to satisfy the same needs, appealing to
people with similar personality profiles, and with similar cognitive styles
and worldviews.
Example 1: need for control An example of a shared predictor
of conspiracy belief is the need for control. Theorists have suggested
that conspiracy theories have a palliative function for people who feel
they lack control over their social environment. They do so by offer¬
ing a neat explanation for lack of control; specifically, that events are
wrested out of the people’s hands by the malign, covert activities of elites
(Hofstadter, 1971). Further, they offer a sense of secondary control -
even if people cannot control events, they can at least believe that they
have secured privileged insights into the activities of powerful groups.
Different lines of evidence support this view. For example, disadvan¬
taged groups who lack objective control of their lives tend to endorse
conspiracy theories more strongly (Goertzel, 1994; Parsons, Simmons,
Shinhoster et al., 1999). Whitson and Galinsky (2008) argued that lack¬
ing objective control causes people to restore a sense of control by finding
patterns in the environment, such as conspiracies. They experimentally
The monological nature of conspiracy theories
261
manipulated the sense of control by asking participants to recall a time
they had, or lacked, control. Participants in the low-control condition
were more likely to endorse conspiracy theories. They were also more
likely to perceive patterns in random visual stimulus arrays.
Example 2: personality variables The relationship between per¬
sonality variables and belief in conspiracy theories has also been well
documented. Since conspiracy theories posit that authorities are untrust¬
worthy, they tend to be correlated with personality variables associated
with mistrust and suspicion. These include anomie, low levels of trust,
paranoia, and negative attitudes to authority (Abalakina-Paap etal., 1999;
Grzesiak-Feldman and Ejsmont, 2008; Kofta and Sedek, 2005). A study
by Swami et al. (2010) provides vivid evidence of the ability of per¬
sonality factors to bind conspiracy theories together statistically. Even
when beliefs in other conspiracy theories were controlled for, belief in
conspiracy theories about the July 7, 2005 terrorist attacks in London
were associated with political cynicism, low agreeableness, and negative
attitudes to authority.
Example 3: beliefs about the self People generally want to explain
socially significant events such as the deaths of celebrities and major inter¬
national disasters (e.g., Leman and Cinnirella, 2007; Weiner, 1985), but
lack direct access to definitive proof of the truth or otherwise of a conspir¬
acy theory. Even the educated middle classes of functioning democracies
need to rely on second, third, and nth hand reportage and interpreta¬
tion in media channels, since they lack direct access to the facts (Sutton,
2010). Writing from a political science perspective, Sunstein and Ver-
meule (2009) speculate that communities who lack even this informa¬
tion tend to be more susceptible to conspiracy theorizing. These com¬
munities include disadvantaged and marginalized groups, and citizens
of highly authoritarian states. Such communities experience “a sharply
limited number of (relevant) informational sources,” which leads them to
experience “crippled epistemologies” in which they are forced to rely on
unreliable sources (p. 204). As psychologists, we would suggest that lack
of knowledge, however severe, forces members of the public to rely not
only on indirect and unreliable sources but also on cognitive heuristics
that allow workable, even if unreliable, inferences in the face of incom¬
plete information. One such heuristic is projection: using beliefs about
the self as a basis to evaluate claims about other people.
Specifically, we contend that the social-cognitive tool of projection
can help people in these uncertain situations (Ames, 2004; Krueger,
2000; McCloskey, 1958). When people are unsure about what someone
262 Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas
may or may not have done, they can use their own thoughts, feelings,
motivations, or action tendencies as a source of information. That is,
they can judge others by judging what they themselves think they would
do. For example, people may be more likely to adopt the hypothesis
that Princess Diana was assassinated if they believe that they, personally,
would be willing to take part in this act if they were in the same situation.
So, a person’s perception that “I would do it” informs their perception
that “others did it.” Beliefs in conspiracy theories - even about completely
unrelated events - may therefore be held together by people’s judgments
of their own moral tendencies.
We tested the role of projection in two studies (Douglas and Sutton,
2011). In the first study, we asked participants to complete the scale for
Machiavellianism - an individual differences variable associated with per¬
sonal morality (Christie and Geis, 1970). Measuring Machiavellianism
allowed us to test the prediction that the relationship between personal
moral qualities and beliefs in conspiracy theories would be mediated by
projection of those moral qualities onto others. We asked participants to
rate their agreement with a range of conspiracy theories and measured
their tendency to project by asking them, for each individual conspiracy
theory, how willing they would have been to participate in the conspiracy
themselves (e.g., “If you had been in the position of the US government,
would you have ordered the attack on the Twin Towers on 9/11?”). As
hypothesized, Machiavellianism predicted participants’ agreement with
conspiracy theories. Also, participants’ personal willingness to conspire
predicted the extent to which they endorsed the conspiracy theories. This
mediated the relationship between Machiavellianism and endorsement of
conspiracy theories.
In a second study, we experimentally manipulated participants’ feelings
of personal morality. We reasoned that by recalling a time when they
behaved in a moral and decent manner, people would perceive themselves
as less likely to participate in conspiracies. As predicted, participants
asked to remember a time when they helped someone in need were
subsequently less willing to conspire than control participants. They also
endorsed a range of conspiracy theories less strongly. This decline in
conspiracy belief was mediated by a decrease in willingness to conspire.
These two studies, taken together, suggest that conspiracy theories may
be held together by projection. Beliefs may not support each other, but
instead may be held together by believers’ perception of their own moral
tendencies (Douglas and Sutton, 2011).
Example 4: beliefs about the world As well as beliefs about the self,
beliefs about the world are important in conspiracy theories. According
to just-world theory, children develop a need to believe that the world is
The monological nature of conspiracy theories
263
a just place, in which people get what they deserve. This need remains
throughout adulthood, since believing in justice allows people to plan
and work towards the future with confidence that their efforts and moral
conduct will be rewarded (Lerner, 1980). There is abundant evidential
support for this theory. Just-world beliefs shape people’s mental health,
behaviors, and many of their social and political attitudes (Furnham,
2003; Flafer and Begue, 2005; Sutton, Douglas, Wilkin et al., 2008).
Importantly, a just world can be contrasted with two alternatives. One
is a world in which events are random, or at least not shaped by principles
of justice. In such a world, bad things happen to good people as often
as they happen to bad people. Events tend to be neither just nor unjust.
Another is the unjust world, in which events are not random or meaning¬
less but instead systematically oppose justice principles: Bad people enjoy
good outcomes while good people suffer. Although the vast majority of
people would prefer to live in a just world, it may be relatively difficult to
choose between the other two worlds. An actively, perversely unjust word
may even be easier to deal with than a random world, since nonrandom
events are more meaningful and easier to predict and understand than
random ones (Janoff-Bulman and Yopyk, 2004; Kay, Moscovitch, and
Laurin, 2010).
Conspiracy theories clearly threaten the notion that the world is just,
but, more specifically, they appear to resonate with the unjust, rather
than the random world. They do this by positing that tragedies and dis¬
asters are not random, unforeseeable outcomes, but, rather, serve the
interests of the unaccountable elites who orchestrate them. In a prelimi¬
nary investigation of this idea (Sutton and Douglas, in preparation), we
conducted a study in which participants were asked to complete a widely
used scale of justice beliefs. This scale includes items that measure belief
in an unjust world (e.g., “The political candidate who sticks up for his or
her principles rarely gets elected”), and other items that tend to measure
belief in a just world (e.g., “In almost any business or profession, people
who do their job well rise to the top”). Participants were also asked to rate
the extent to which they endorse a range of different conspiracy theories
on the scale devised by Douglas and Sutton (201 1). The results revealed
a robust correlation between belief in conspiracy theories and the belief
that the world is wwjust (vs. not unjust). In contrast, beliefs in conspiracy
theories were unrelated to beliefs that the world is just (vs. not just) .
Although further work is required to discern the direction of causality,
these findings suggest that conspiracy theories may be held together by
the view that injustice reigns in the world - as opposed to the subtly dif¬
ferent belief that justice is lacking. To return to Sunstein and Vermeule’s
(2009) analysis, the findings also suggest a different social-psychological
mechanism by which conspiracy theories thrive among those living under
264
Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas
totalitarian regimes or in disadvantaged circumstances. Such circum¬
stances expose people to chronic experience of injustice (Miller, 2001).
Thus it may be necessary to address not only the limited information
available to the disaffected but also the sociostructural bases of the dis¬
affection itself.
Conspiracy theories: variable or variables?
We have seen that a range of situational and personality variables com¬
monly predict conspiracy theories and so tend to bind them together.
This is not surprising, since conspiracy theories imply that powerful
elites are willing and able to conspire. This central belief in the existence
of conspiracies may be the essential glue that holds beliefs in various con¬
spiracy theories together (cf. Abalakina-Paap et al. , 1999; Wood et al.,
2012). Even more simply, it may be that items assessing beliefs in conspir¬
acy theories tap different manifestations of this same, underlying belief.
In other words, it may simply be that belief in conspiracy theories is a
variable, which, like many others in social science, can be measured by
self-report scales containing multiple items. In this view, all that the inter¬
correlations between conspiracy items show is that our measurements are
reliable. These different conceptions of the relationship between conspir¬
acy theories are diagrammatized in Figure 14.1.
As yet, the available data do not strongly favor one of these different
conceptions of conspiracy theorizing over the other. They are not neces¬
sarily incompatible, either. Beliefs in conspiracy theories may well cohere
partly because of their shared relationship with higher-order beliefs about
authority, partly because of their common sensitivity to situational and
personality factors, and partly because they are aspects of the same under¬
lying variable.
This lack of clarity contributes to a certain disorder in the literature.
For example, in some papers, researchers have assumed, de facto, that
belief in conspiracy theories is a psychological variable proper, have
measured it with scales assessing beliefs in various conspiracies, and have
reported Cronbach’s alpha as evidence that their measurement of the
construct is robust (e.g., Douglas and Sutton, 2008, 2011). Other papers
start with the assumption that specific conspiracy beliefs are not only
distinct but also semantically opposed to each other. They then attempt
to examine why conspiracy items are related to each other, putting
aside any question that they might be items assessing the same variable
(Wood etal., 2012). In contrast, Abalakina-Paap et al. (1999) constructed
a measure of “a general propensity to believe in conspiracy theories”
(p. 640) that did not assess belief in any actual conspiracies. This
The monological nature of conspiracy theories
265
Figure 14.1 Four different conceptions of the relationships between
conspiracy theories, (a) Straightforward monological relationship in
which belief in each conspiracy theory (CT) supports belief in every
other one. (b) Conspiracy theories may or may not have a causal rela¬
tionship with each other, but are correlated because of their common
susceptibility to the same personality (Pers) and situational (Sit) factors,
(c) Conspiracy theories may or may not have a causal relationship with
each other, and, indeed, may even be mutually antagonistic, but they
are intercorrelated because they fuel, and are fueled by, a meta-belief in
the deceitful nature of authorities, (d) Belief in each conspiracy theory
is merely an exemplar of the same variable, conspiracy beliefs.
266 Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas
consisted instead of items such as, “People who see conspiracies behind
everything are simply imagining things” (reverse-scored). Thus, they
appear not to have been content to regard belief in a variety of conspiracy
theories - also measured, in a separate scale - as evidence of a propensity
to believe in them.
Assumptions about the nature of conspiracy theories vary widely not
only between papers but also sometimes within the same paper. This
is especially true of papers that have explicitly set out to test whether
conspiracy theories comprise part of a monological belief system. In the
important and stimulating papers by Swami and colleagues (Swami et al.,
2010, 2011, 2013), conspiracy theories are simultaneously treated in
two different ways. First, items measuring belief in several conspiracy
theories are aggregated to form a reliable scale of conspiracy beliefs -
so treating the resultant scale as a variable. But, second, this variable is
then related to belief in a new conspiracy theory (e.g., about the July 7,
2005 attacks in London), which is measured separately and treated as if
it were an altogether separate variable conceptually. Thus, conspiracy-
theory beliefs are being treated both as facets of the same unit, and as
different units, within the same investigation. These papers implicitly ask
readers to forget that they already know conspiracy theories A, B, and
C are related, and then to be impressed by the fact that conspiracy D is
related to them.
Note that we could do the same thing, in principle, with just about
any attitude scale (e.g., attitudes to safe sex, abortion, or the environ¬
ment) . A correlation between an item taken out of this scale (or a new,
analogous item) and the remainder of the scale would normally reflect
nothing more than the fact that the items measure essentially the same
attitude. Without independent evidence, there is no reason to assume
that interitem correlations are driven by the motivated maintenance of a
worldview, or willful ignorance of facts, or any other characteristic of a
monological mind-set.
To be clear, many other interesting findings and ideas about psycholog¬
ical processes and individual differences emerge from all of these papers,
which do not stand or fall on this single point. Also, it is interesting
and important that beliefs in familiar conspiracy theories (e.g., about
the deaths of John F. Kennedy and Princess Diana) are reliable predic¬
tors of willingness to accept conspiracy theories that the participant may
not have encountered before, such as conspiracies about the allegedly
malign forces behind the energy drink Red Bull (Swami et al., 2011) or
the disappearance of Amelia Earhart (Swami et al., 2013). These find¬
ings show that, indeed, people who already believe in existing conspiracy
theories will tend to be receptive to new conspiracy theories, exactly as
The monological nature of conspiracy theories
267
Goertzel (1994) suggested. This is an important finding, even if it does
not show that conspiracy theorists have a monological mind-set.
We are unconcerned that the literature does not yet provide a definitive
answer about which of the diagrammatized conceptions of conspiracy
theories is most accurate. We can learn a lot from research that treats
beliefs in various conspiracy theories as aspects of a single variable, such
as the antecedents and consequences of belief and exposure to conspir¬
acies generally. Likewise, we can learn a lot from research that examines
how and why beliefs in individual conspiracy theories are interrelated.
In other words, to examine different research questions, we can treat
beliefs in various conspiracy theories as unique or as aggregates. This is
reminiscent of the particle-wave duality in physics, in which much can
be learned about electrons only if scientists treat them as if they were
particles, and much else can be learned only if they are treated as waves.
So long as each piece of research is informed by a consistent and more
or less explicit conceptualization of conspiracy beliefs, there is no reason
why the plurality of conceptualizations should hinder progress.
Closing comments
In this chapter, we have reviewed the claim that conspiracy theories form
part of a monological mind-set. The evidence most commonly cited for
this claim is that beliefs in diverse conspiracy theories are positively corre¬
lated (e.g., Goertzel, 1994; Swami et al., 2010, 201 1, 2013; Wood et al.,
2012). More recently, researchers have pointed to the fact that the
strongest predictor of whether participants will accept a novel or unfamil¬
iar conspiracy theory is the extent to which they already believe in other
conspiracies (e.g., Swami et al., 2011, 2013). However, we have argued
that this evidence is not sufficient. There are other plausible mecha¬
nisms that hold conspiracy beliefs together, several of which have been
empirically validated. For example, regardless of variations in content,
these beliefs tend to appeal to individuals who believe the world to be
an unjust place, and who have a strong need for control (Whitson and
Galinsky, 2008), with more or less paranoid personality profiles (Swami
et al., 2010), or who think that they would personally engage in the
alleged conspiracies (Douglas and Sutton, 2011). Further, an alternative
and more parsimonious understanding of the positive relation between
specific conspiracy beliefs is that they are all fed by a central distrust of
authority, and may even be aspects of an underlying individual difference
variable, such as “conspiracism.”
Against these alternative views, there is no evidence for the unique
mechanisms associated with the monological mind-set. For example,
268
Robbie M. Sutton and Karen M. Douglas
there is no evidence that conspiracy theorists are closed to experience,
and no evidence that their thinking is nomothetic (abstract, general,
and divorced from specifics). Another reason to be dissatisfied with the
monological account of conspiracy theories, at least as it was originally
stated, is that conspiracy theories are not necessarily mutually supportive.
Indeed some are actually mutually incompatible (Wood et al., 2012).
In sum, we think it is premature, and unfairly pejorative, to portray
conspiracy beliefs as a manifestation of monological thinking. Closed¬
mindedness and willful ignorance of facts are stigmatized characteristics.
It is sobering to reflect that scales measuring agreement with conspir¬
acy theories also, by definition, measure disagreement with them. So we
might equally say that correlations between conspiracy items show that
rejection of conspiracy theories comprises part of a monological world¬
view, in which alternatives to official accounts are dismissed in a closed-
minded and irrational fashion! We need stronger empirical and theo¬
retical grounds that conspiracy theorists, rather than those who reject
conspiracy theories, are more prone to monological thinking.
The pejorative implications of the monological perspective are unfor¬
tunate, in our view. Although there is evidence that conspiracy beliefs
are sometimes underpinned by paranoia and irrationality, and that they
have some harmful consequences, there is space for a more complimen¬
tary picture of conspiracy theories. They can be seen as creative, almost
heroic efforts by ordinary people to question and to create alternatives to
political orthodoxy (Sapountzis and Condor, 2013). They can be seen as
products, and affirmations, of the democratic right to entertain minor¬
ity views, no matter how absurd or unsettling they seem to the majority
(cf. Swami et al., 2011). Conspiracy theories more generally may allow
people to question social hierarchies, causing governments to be more
transparent and democratic (e.g., Clarke, 2002; Swami and Coles, 2010).
We would advocate a dispassionate mode of scientific inquiry which is
open to the possibility that these theories have conventionally desirable
and undesirable consequences, and which is not unduly influenced by
the cultural impulse to label them as simply “good” or “bad” (cf. Husting
and Orr, 2007).
Despite our critique of the monological mind-set, we do think it makes
some interesting predictions that deserve to be tested. One of the pre¬
dictions of the monological position is that adherents (vs. skeptics) of
conspiracy theories will invoke fewer concrete facts and more general
patterns when explaining major events. This nomothetic explanatory
style should also be apparent in more abstract, as opposed to concrete,
language (Douglas and Sutton, 2003; Semin and Fiedler, 1988). Another
The monological nature of conspiracy theories
269
prediction of the monological view is that conspiracy adherents (vs. skep¬
tics) will be relatively unmoved by the presentation of specific facts about
the immediate causal background of an event. Research might there¬
fore pretest adherence to conspiracy theories, and examine whether this
moderates the extent to which participants are influenced by evidence
that specific conspiracy theories are true or false (cf. Swami et al., 2013).
These are just two examples of the interesting lines of research that
remain to be done on conspiracy beliefs.
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1 5 The role of paranoia in a dual-process
motivational model of conspiracy belief
Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose
“Even paranoids have enemies.” So (reportedly) said the fourth Israeli
prime minister, Golda Meir, to Henry Kissinger during the 1973 Sinai
talks. The point is, of course, that while paranoia is typically considered
to describe a pathological disjunction between persecutory belief and
reality, this is not necessarily so. There are numerous historical and con¬
temporary examples of situations in which one group of people really are
out to get others (for example, the McCarthyist persecution of supposed
communist sympathizers in the 1950s, and numerous pogroms).
Indeed, this is a point repeatedly made about conspiracy by laypeople,
often in defense of their belief in conspiracy, and scholars, often in defense
of their thesis concerning conspiracy belief (see Coady, 2006). Under
some circumstances, there really has been a conspiracy going on behind
the conspiracy theory.
Our aim in this chapter is not to discuss whether or not paranoia or
conspiracy belief is legitimate or rational (there are clearly cases where it
may be), but rather to investigate why some people endorse conspiracy
theories more than others. Specifically, we shall do this through con¬
sideration of several important individual difference variables that have
been implicated as the foundation of a range of social and political atti¬
tudes and behaviors - social dominance orientation (SDO) (Sidanius and
Pratto, 1999) and right-wing authoritarianism (RWA) (Altemeyer, 1981,
1996) - that together comprise a particularly powerful explanatory pack¬
age (Altemeyer, 1998; Duckitt, 2001; McFarland and Adelson, 1996).
At the same time, we shall attempt to illustrate the role that paranoia
might play in the process.
Psychology and conspiracy belief
But first, let us consider conspiracy belief. If there is one thing that
unites those few researchers interested in the psychological factors
Wilson (2007) reported the data that are described as sample 1, and Wilson (under review)
the data that are described as sample 5.
273
274
Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose
associated with belief in conspiracies, it is their oft-expressed surprise
that conspiracy thinking has not received more attention from psycho¬
logical researchers (Graumann, 1987). First, conspiracy belief shares
much in common with other, more routine disciplinary foci. For exam¬
ple, and at a more psychologically fundamental level, conspiracy theories
are attributional phenomena concerning the potential causes of partic¬
ularly significant events. Yet, there is very little published research eval¬
uating the attributional processes underlying conspiracy thinking (but
see Leman and Cinirella, 2007; Zonis and Joseph, 1994). Leman and
Cinirella (2007), for example, have shown that events with greater or
more dramatic outcomes (assassination of a politician compared with
attempted assassination) are more likely to result in conspiracy attri¬
butions. At the level of similarity of issue content, there is a much more
extensive literature on the frequency and psychological correlates of belief
in paranormal phenomena (see Irwin, 2009 for a comprehensive review) .
Darwin, Neave, and Holmes (201 1) and Wilson (2007) have shown that
conspiracy belief correlates with belief in paranormal phenomena and
measures of schizotypal personality.
Second, one can easily make an argument for the importance of study¬
ing these phenomena because of the significant impact they have on peo¬
ple’s lives, either because some conspiracy theories are actually veridical
(e.g., US foreknowledge of the attack on Pearl Harbor) or because belief
in conspiracy theory can influence important behavior. For example, the
relatively low acceptance of safe sex practices among African-Americans
has been associated with the fairly widespread belief among this pop¬
ulation that the HIV/AIDS virus was deliberately designed to target
African-Americans (Bird and Bogart, 2003; Bogart and Thorburn, 2006;
Crocker, Luhtanen, Broadnax et al., 1999). Finally, since the events of
September 1 1, 2001, there has anecdotally been an increase in the pop¬
ularity of conspiracy theories, and not just concerning 9/11. Rather than
autopsying reasons why we, as psychological researchers, have paid less
attention to some issues than others, this chapter is intended to repre¬
sent a concerted attempt to understand conspiracy theorizing (CT), and
extend the available literature on the topic.
It is appropriate to note that there have been detailed considerations
of CT in other academic domains - for example, the more sociologi¬
cal analyses of Barkun (2003) and Hofstadter (1966), under the broad
headings of cultural and political studies. The research presented here
is, however, psychological - it focuses very much on the inside-the-head
aspects of CT that differentiate it from more sociostructural analyses.
An important contribution to the understanding of CT psychology was
presented by Goertzel (1994), who surveyed a North American sample
about belief in specific topical conspiracies, as well as brief measures of
Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model
275
several obvious relevant constructs (e.g., anomie, interpersonal trust).
As well as illustrating relatively high levels of support for various theo¬
ries, an overall scale based on aggregating beliefs about a range of theories
was reliable (indicating that belief in one theory tends to be associated
with others), suggesting that CT might reflect a worldview (as Zusne
and Jones, 1989, have suggested for paranormal beliefs). CT was also
correlated with anomie and lack of interpersonal trust, so that the more
socially isolated and less trusting the respondent, the stronger was the
belief in conspiracies. Minority groups also tended to report stronger
beliefs. These findings support the hypothesis that CT might be most
likely among the disenfranchised and disempowered in society. This is
consistent with the speculation of Inglehart (1987) that those at the
political and social extremes would be expected to attribute their lack
of success and status to conspiracies against them, as they are unlikely
to find themselves in situations where their beliefs and values influence
social and political events directly.
More recently, Abalakina-Paap, Stephan, Craig et al. (1999) reported
associations between conspiracy belief and anomie, distrust, powerless¬
ness, and hostility, as well as finding again that minorities are more likely
to endorse conspiracy theories. Swami and colleagues have detailed asso¬
ciations between political cynicism, rebelliousness, agreeableness, and
belief in 9/11 conspiracies (Swami, Chamorro-Premuzic, and Furnham,
2009); between political cynicism, support for democracy, rebelliousness,
lower self-esteem, agreeableness, and belief in 7/7 London bombing con¬
spiracy (Swami, Coles, Stieger et al., 2011); between lower self-esteem,
higher agreeableness, political cynicism, ideological attitudes, and con¬
spiracy belief about the disappearance of Amelia Earhart and Fred Noo¬
nan (Swami and Furnham, 2012); and between schizotypal personality,
belief in extraterrestrial aliens, and belief in Moon landings conspiracy
(Swami, Pietschnig, Tran et al., 2013). If there is a theme across these
papers assessing the individual difference correlates of conspiracy belief,
it is that conspiracy theories are more positively endorsed by individuals
reporting more political cynicism, distrust, anomie, paranormal belief,
schizotypy, and minority status.
Given that CT frequently, if not always, involves a strong political
element (see Inglehart, 1987, for a discussion or conspiratorial think¬
ing particularly among minority/extremist political party supporters), it
makes sense to consider conspiracy belief in the context of other sociopo¬
litical constructs. Indeed, the consistent finding that political alienation
and cynicism are predictive of conspiracy belief similarly justifies such a
focus. To that end, we propose that conspiracy belief should also be asso¬
ciated with those variables that have been found to be important in other
sociopolitical attitudes and behaviors, and specifically RWA and SDO
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Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose
Motivational goals underlying individual differences
in prejudice and sociopolitical behavior
RWA (Altemeyer, 1981, 1996) has a long track record, growing as it
does from the seminal work of Adorno, Frenkel-Brunswik, Levenson et al.
(1950) on the authoritarian personality. Adorno etal. described an exten¬
sive syndrome of characteristics that combine to produce a particularly
unpleasant personality, which they used as a partial explanation for the
atrocities of the Third Reich. In this process, they touched briefly on
a “paranoid style” (a term later adopted by Hofstadter, 1966 in his
oft-quoted essay on the conspiratorial aspects of American politics). Alte¬
meyer (1981, 1996) conceives of RWA as a covariation of three attitudi-
nal clusters - authoritarian submission (people should do as legitimate
authorities tell them), authoritarian aggression (people who do not do
as they are told should be punished), and conventionalism (adherence
to traditional social norms). RWA is also a potent predictor of prejudice
and other sociopolitical attitudes.
A relatively newer research tool, SDO is an individual-difference con¬
struct indexing the extent to which individuals endorse group-based hier¬
archies with some groups at the top and other groups arrayed below them
(Sidanius and Pratto, 1999). SDO is an important tool for testing pre¬
dictions based on social-dominance theory (Sidanius and Pratto, 1999),
which argues that postindustrial societies are organized as group-based
hierarchies, supported by a range of psychological mechanisms that per¬
petuate a social and economic hierarchy. SDO is a consistent predictor
of prejudice of various kinds (Altemeyer, 1998; McFarland and Adelson,
1996; Sibley, Robertson, and Wilson, 2006), as well as various social and
political attitudes.
Additionally, as initially illustrated by McFarland and Adelson (1996),
while RWA and SDO are typically correlated (McFarland and Adelson,
1996; Roccato and Ricolfi, 2005), their combination explains as much
as half of the variation in measures of prejudice through their unique
and shared contributions - and in some cases their interaction (Wilson
and Sibley, 2013). Duckitt (2001; Duckitt and Sibley, 2010) has pro¬
posed a dual-process motivational model of prejudice in which individual
differences in prejudice result from two motivational goals, dominance
and superiority versus egalitarianism (as reflected in SDO), and social
cohesion and security versus autonomy and independence (RWA). In
this model, social dominance and authoritarianism depend upon one’s
beliefs about the extent to which the world is a competitive (in the case
of SDO) or dangerous (in the case of RWA) place. Both SDO and RWA,
then, are “triggered” by threats to hierarchy or security. Indeed, we know
Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model
277
that priming people to perceive a dangerous world increases RWA scores
(Duckitt and Fisher, 2003), and shifts in dominance hierarchies are asso¬
ciated with changes in SDO (Huang and Liu, 2005). These worldviews,
in turn, reflect sociostructural characteristics and relatively stable indi¬
vidual differences in personality. In its power to account for variation in a
range of sociopolitical attitudes, the dual-process model provides a pow¬
erful and coherent tool for understanding a variety of social and political
attitudes.
SDO, RWA, and conspiracy
On the face of it, it seems reasonable to suspect that RWA and SDO
should predict conspiracy belief, though perhaps differentially, depend¬
ing on the content of the particular conspiracy. For instance, high SDOs
should be concerned about the threat to social hierarchies of improving
the status of indigenous peoples and ethnic minorities. Similarly, high
RWAs will see attempts to subvert tradition, such as promoting gay mar¬
riage, as threatening social cohesion and security. Given that threats to
social hierarchy also potentially destabilize social cohesion and security,
many conspiracies would be expected to trigger both SDO and RWA
through increasing competition and danger.
Psychological research into conspiracy belief is sufficiently new that
there has been little empirical work looking at the role of sociopoliti¬
cal individual differences such as RWA and SDO. Abalakina-Paap et al.
(1999) reported that belief in specific conspiracies is correlated with
RWA, but not with belief in general conspiracy (that conspiracies do
happen). Swami (2012) investigated endorsement of Jewish conspir¬
acy themes among Malays, and found belief in such conspiracies to be
strongly correlated with modern racism. Unsurprisingly, given the theo¬
retical and empirical links between prejudice, SDO, and RWA, endorse¬
ment of Jewish conspiracy is also correlated with SDO and RWA. Swami
and colleagues (Swami et al ., 2009, 2011) have reported the Big Five
characteristic of agreeableness to be negatively correlated with conspir¬
acy belief, as is SDO (see Sibley and Duckitt, 2008).
Psychopathology, paranoia, and conspiracy belief
Given the political focus of many conspiracy theories, greater focus on the
roles of RWA and SDO is understandable when one considers that vari¬
ables such as political cynicism and trust have been consistently linked
to conspiracy belief. What is perhaps more surprising is the very real
dearth of research that has investigated the psychopathological correlates
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Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose
of conspiracy belief. While schizotypy (and particularly the extent to
which people display “magical thinking” or make unusual connections
between unrelated events) has been linked to conspiracy belief (Darwin
et al., 2011; Wilson, 2007), few researchers appear to have empirically
investigated paranoia - arguably the core attribute associated with the
stereotype of the conspiracy theorist. Such a link has been theorized (e.g.,
Wulff, 1987), and Darwin et al. (201 1) report that scores on the Conspir¬
acy Theory Questionnaire (Bruder and Manstead, 2009, cited by Darwin
et al ., 2011) correlated .47 with scores on the Paranoid Ideation Scale
(Fenigstein and Vanable, 1992), while Wilson (2007) reported weak (but
consistent) significant correlations around .20 between conspiracy belief
and scores on the Paranoia Checklist (Freeman, Garety, Bebbington
et al., 2005).
A staple of popular representations of conspiracy, paranoia refers to
persecutory delusions - the belief that people (be they friends, family, or
strangers) are watchings, or intend to harm, the protagonist (Freeman
et al., 2005). At its most basic, being paranoid means having thoughts
about malicious others. Freeman et al. (2005) operationalize paranoia as a
multidimensional construct comprising frequency of paranoid ideation,
the degree of distress associated with the ideation, and the extent to
which the subject believes that the “delusion” is true. In a review of the
literature considering persecutory delusions, Freeman (2007) suggests
that some degree of paranoia is as common as anxiety among the general
population, and that anxiety, depression, and poor self-esteem are among
the affective correlates of persecutory delusions.
Accounting for paranoia in a dual-process motivational
model of conspiracy belief
While there is now a significant amount of research that has built upon
Duckitt’s (2001) original dual-process model, and it has been applied to
understanding a range of prejudices and social attitudes, it is less clear
how psychopathological constructs like paranoia fit in, or whether we
should even ask the question.
There has been only a limited focus on the psychopathological corre¬
lates of SDO and RWA, and many of the studies that report associations
do so incidentally, and tend to be limited to mood-related variables. For
example, while van Hiel and de Clercq (2009) suggested that RWA might
protect against the risk of depression, Duriez, Klimstra, Luyckx et al.
(20 1 2) have reported that while RWA was unrelated to depression at time
1 in a longitudinal sample, time 1 RWA weakly predicted time 2 depres¬
sion, leading them to conclude that RWA is a risk factor for depression.
Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model
279
Recently (and comprehensively), Onraet, van Hiel, Dhont et al. (2013)
report analysis of various studies that have included SDO, RWA, and
a range of psychopathological correlates. SDO showed weak significant
relationships with trait anxiety, while RWA was associated weakly with
death anxiety. Both were associated moderately with intergroup anxiety.
Most relevant to this discussion, Walter, Thorpe, and Kingery (2001)
found that the higher their participants scored on RWA (but not SDO),
the more prone they were to demonstrating “irrational” beliefs - that
the past is important for determining the present, the importance of
others’ approval, and the need to be perfect, though it might be argued
that these are qualitatively different from the kinds of persecutory beliefs
more typically associated with pathological delusions. At the same time,
high SDOs were more likely to report feelings of suspicion and concern,
while high RWAs reported more general feelings of anxiety.
In the absence of strong guidance, there are several ways that para¬
noia might “fit” into a dual-process model. Paranoia may mediate
between dangerous/competitive worldviews and RWA/SDO, and between
RWA/SDO and conspiracy belief, or paranoia may predict RWA/SDO
and/or dangerous/competitive worldviews. Onraet et al. (2013) found
both RWA and SDO to be associated with intergroup anxiety, and it
might therefore be reasonable to suggest that paranoia contributes to
both SDO and RWA, via concern over the malicious intent of others.
Given that Walter et al. (2001) report SDO to be correlated with feelings
of suspicion, it may be that paranoia is related particularly to SDO rather
than RWA.
Data
The conspiracy-belief measure used in these studies is based on principal-
components analysis of examples of conspiracy theories derived from a
range of sources (including the internet and popular books about con¬
spiracy theory) . The full process has been described elsewhere (Wilson,
2007), and analyses indicated four broad “themes” of conspiracy:
(1) organizational conspiracies targeting particular groups (e.g., “HIV
was developed in a laboratory specifically to target minorities,”
“World governments are run by the Illuminati,” “A secret cabal of
elite individuals controls world politics” - 1 1 items, a (Cronbach’s
alpha) = .89);
(2) US government conspiracies (e.g., “The US government knew about
or planned the attacks on the Twin Towers on 9/1 1,” “The Iraq War
of 2003 was about oil, and not democracy,” “George W. Bush rigged
the 2000 and 2004 American elections,” - 5 items, a — .87);
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Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose
(3) extraterrestrial alien conspiracies (e.g., “World governments have
suppressed evidence of alien visits,” “The US military is hiding alien
technology in Area 51,” “World governments are complicit in the
abduction by aliens of thousands, if not millions, of people” - 5 items,
a = .79);
(4) New Zealand-related conspiracies (e.g., “The All Blacks rugby team
was deliberately poisoned prior to the 1995 World Cup Final,” “The
Rainbow Warrior was bombed by agents of a foreign power,” “New
Zealand society is constantly manipulated by big business” - 4 items,
a = .50).
Combining items from the first three components produces a highly
reliable scale assessing the extent to which people believe these specific
conspiracies are likely to be accurate descriptions of the events they per¬
tain to.
Paranoia and conspiracy belief: analysis and discussion
Here we summarize the results of four survey-based studies investigating
the relationship between self-reported paranoia and conspiracy belief. In
our studies, paranoia has been assessed in one of two ways. The first uses
the British Inventory of Mental Pathology (BIMP) (Bedford and Deary,
2006), a 36-item scale assessing a broad range of psychopathological
symptoms. There are six 6-item subscales, including one assessing para¬
noid belief (for example, one item is as follows: “Recently, I have felt
that an organization or group has been planning my downfall”). The
second is the Paranoia Checklist developed by Freeman et al. (2005) and
adapted from Fenigstein and Vanable’s (1992) Paranoia Scale. The mea¬
sure invites participants to indicate how frequent, how distressing, and
how veridical (how true) they think a range of scenarios are (for example,
“I am under threat from others”).
Table 15.1 provides correlations between conspiracy-belief scores and
measures of paranoia, based on analysis of four student subject pool
samples (sample 1, n = 222, collected in October 2006 and reported by
Wilson (2007), sample 2, n — 81, collected in October 2006, sample 3,
n — 228, collected in July 2008, and sample 4, n = 180, collected in
September 2009). The participants were invited to take part in surveys
of “social and political attitudes” and received credit towards a manda¬
tory course research requirement. All samples completed Freeman et al.’ s
(2005) Paranoia Checklist. Sample 1 completed only the frequency sub¬
scale, and sample 2 also completed the BIMP, which includes a subscale
assessing paranoid belief. Sample 4 did not complete the full conspiracy
scale, but rather an 8-item short version.
Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model
281
Table 15.1 Correlations between paranoia and
conspiracy belief across four student samples
Sample
i
2
3
4
n
219
81
222
177
Paranoia Checklist
Frequency
.27**
.27*
.29**
.30**
Distress
.32**
.27**
.28**
Truth
.21+
.30**
.19*
BIMP Paranoid Belief
.25*
Conspiracy scale reliability
.91
.91
.90
.78
t p < .10.
* p < .05.
** p < .01.
In short, all but one of the paranoia measures correlated positively,
though modestly, with conspiracy belief. These correlations are generally
weaker than those reported by Darwin et al. (2011), and it is unclear why
this was the case. The measure of conspiracy belief used by Darwin
et al. (2011) is similar in delivery (inviting participants to indicate the
likelihood that each of thirty-eight conspiracies is likely or unlikely) and
Fenigstein and Vanable’s (1992) Paranoia Scale is the basis for Freeman
et aids (2005) Paranoia Checklist (Freeman et al. argue that the Paranoia
Scale is not sufficiently persecutory).
Nevertheless, it is probably fair to conclude that while paranoid
ideation clearly is consistently associated with conspiracy belief, that
association does not appear strong enough to justify arguing that con¬
spiracy belief is the same thing as paranoia.
Bringing together paranoia, conspiracy, and the
dual-process model: analysis and discussion
So, how does paranoia fit into a dual-process model of conspiracy belief?
Next we describe a study, once again using 180 university subject-pool
participants (sample 5) invited to participate in a “survey of social and
political attitudes.” The participants completed the full conspiracy-belief
scale; the BIMP; the 16-item SDO-6 scale (Sidanius and Pratto, 1999 -
sample item, “Inferior groups should stay in their place”); the 30-item
RWA scale (Altemeyer, 1996 - sample item, “What our country really
needs, instead of more ‘civil rights,’ is a good stiff dose of law and
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Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose
Table 15.2 Correlations between BIMP psychopathology subscale scores,
conspiracy belief, RWA, SDO, and Worldview scale scores
BIMP Euphoric Grandiose Intrusive Paranoid Psychological Somatic
subscale mood belief thoughts belief distress distress SDO RWA
Conspiracy
.19*
.40**
.26**
.34**
.18*
.26**
.45** .38**
belief
SDO
.09
.37**
.20*
.44**
.22**
.25**
-
RWA
-.01
.30**
.03
.30**
.01
.04
.45** -
Dangerous
.08
.11
.09
.09
.21*
.17*
.12 .34**
World
Competitive
.13
.27**
.19*
.37**
.15
.23**
.59** .35**
World
order.”); and the Dangerous and Competitive Worldview scales (Duckitt,
2001 - sample Dangerous World item, “Despite what one hears about
‘crime in the streets,’ there probably isn’t any more now than there
ever has been” - sample Competitive World item, “Winning is not the
first thing: It’s the only thing”). The SDO, RWA, conspiracy-belief, and
worldview scales were all answered on a 7-point scale, and mean scores
were calculated for all scales (Table 15.2). All scales and subscales proved
reliable.
Scores on RWA (M = 3.08, SD = .91) and SDO (M = 2.79, SD =
1 .05) were characteristically low. On average, the samples tended to think
the conspiracies presented to be unlikely (organizational conspiracy,
M = 2.72, SD = 1.17; US government conspiracy, M = 3.78, SD —
1.32; alien conspiracy, M = 2.68, SD = 1.29; overall conspiracy belief,
M — 3.00, SD — 1.09). All conspiracy scale scores were significantly less
than the theoretical scale midpoint of 4: r(156) < —2. 07, p < .04, though
the difference for US government conspiracy belief was close to being
nonsignificant (p = .04).
Conspiracy belief showed significant correlations with all six BIMP
subscales, with Grandiose Belief and Paranoid Belief demonstrating the
strongest associations. Intriguingly, these were also the only two BIMP
subscales that correlated with both SDO and RWA - the more social
dominant and authoritarian the participants, the more paranoid and
grandiose ideation they endorsed. That SDO correlated (albeit weakly)
with five of the six BIMP subscales is particularly interesting in light of
Sidanius and Pratto’s (1999) theoretical endorsement of SDO as being
a “normal” part of contemporary social life. By this, they clearly do not
mean that SDO should be unrelated to psychological distress, but rather
that SDO does not grow from a psychopathological foundation. These
Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model
283
results suggest that a tendency to social dominance may carry other
psychological baggage. Contrary to expectation, RWA was unrelated to
the subscale Intrusive Thoughts - an index of worry and anxiety where
we might have expected that our threat-sensitive authoritarians would
endorse more worry than others.
Conspiracy belief correlated significantly with both RWA and (more
strongly) SDO. However, Wilson and Sibley (2013) have shown that
SDO and RWA interact to predict political ideology. That is to say, the
interaction between the two accounts for significant variation in ideology
(variously measured) on top of the variation they account for individu¬
ally (Aiken and West, 1991). In order to assess whether SDO and RWA
interact to predict conspiracy belief, an interaction term was computed
by multiplying SDO with RWA scores for each participant. Conspir¬
acy belief subscale scores were then regressed onto SDO and RWA (as
a block) followed by the SDO by RWA interaction term. A significant
interaction (moderation) is observed if the interaction term explains sig¬
nificant additional variance.
There was no evidence for moderation in predicting either US govern¬
ment conspiracies or alien conspiracies. The inclusion of the interaction
term accounted for significant variance in organizational conspiracy belief
(e.g., HIV manufactured to target minorities, etc.): Fstepi(2, 149) =
33.28, p < .001, R2adj = .31; FST EP2(3, 148) = 23.93, p < .001, R2ADJ =
.33; AF(1, 148) = 3.95, p < .05, AR2adj = .02). In order to clarify the
nature of the moderation, ModGraph (Jose, 2004) was used to plot the
interaction. Figure 15.1 shows the result, indicating that at low levels of
RWA, as SDO increases so too does conspiracy belief, and at high levels
of RWA, this is even more pronounced - people report the highest levels
of endorsement of these organizational conspiracies if they are high on
both RWA and SDO, and the lowest endorsement when they score low
on both. It is likely that these “double-highs” (Altemeyer, 2004) are par¬
ticularly sensitive to threats to not only social hierarchy but also social
convention and security, and this accounts for their weaker opposition to
conspiracy belief associated with shady organizations trying to do wrong
to people. We note “weaker opposition” because even though double-
highs reported the highest scores, these high scores were still below the
theoretical midpoint of the scale.
Finally, in order to test a dual-process model of conspiracy belief, the
data were subjected to structural equation modelling, using SPSS Amos.
Worldviews, SDO, RWA, conspiracy belief, and Paranoid Belief were
treated as observed variables. The basic dual-process model (Dangerous
World predicting RWA, Competitive World predicting SDO, and SDO
and RWA predicting conspiracy belief) fit the data satisfactorily. The path
284
Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose
Low RWA High RWA
Figure 15.1 ModGraph plot of the SDO by RWA interaction predicting
endorsement of organizational conspiracies.
from SDO to RWA (but not vice versa) was significant, consistent with
several previous analyses.
Paranoid Belief was included in the model in a variety of positions.
Analyses did not support a role for Paranoid Belief as a mediator between
any other variables in the model. However, Paranoid Belief was success¬
fully included as a significant predictor of both Competitive World beliefs
and SDO. Paranoid Belief was not a significant predictor of RWA or Dan¬
gerous World belief. Figure 15.2 shows the final path model.
This analysis shows that the dual-process motivational model proposed
by Duckitt (2001) to explain intergroup attitudes predicts almost a quar¬
ter of the variation in conspiracy belief. Both the Dangerous World/RWA
and Competitive World/SDO pathways of the model predict unique
Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model
285
.00 .27
.13 .39
Figure 15.2 Path analysis of a dual-process model, including paranoia,
predicting conspiracy belief: x2(J ) = 13.36 ns, x2/df = 1.91, GFI =
.96, RMSEA = .04, all paths significant at least at p < .05.
variance in conspiracy belief, and RWA also appears to mediate between
SDO and conspiracy belief - a preference for group-based hierarchy is
associated with elevated authoritarianism that in turn predicts conspir¬
acy belief. While bearing in mind the limits of cross-sectional data, this
analysis suggests that conspiracy belief may be (at least in part) the con¬
sequence of greater preference for hierarchy and/or authority that in turn
stems from concerns that the world is a dangerous and/or competitive
place.
That Paranoid Belief fits into this picture through prediction of the
Competitive World/SDO path of the model is consistent with the work
of Walter et al. (2001), who found that suspicion was more consistent
with SDO than RWA. But why is this the case? After all, we know that
authoritarians are highly sensitive to threats to security and cohesion
(Duckitt and Fisher, 2003, among others) so why is this not manifested
in some degree of paranoia over such threats, when RWA does predict
actual belief in these kinds of threats as they are embodied by conspir¬
acy? We would suggest that the answer to this may lie in the difference
between paranoia and conspiracy belief. Paranoia refers to persecutory
beliefs about threats to oneself as an individual, while conspiracies refer
to the malicious intent of mysterious others to the detriment of groups of
individuals. To paraphrase David Coady (2008), if I believe that people
are deliberately trying to prevent me from publishing my research, that
is paranoia, not conspiracy, because the malicious action targets only
me. Research like that conducted by Duckitt and Fisher (2003) typi¬
cally involves group-based threat, even if only by implication, while the
286
Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose
items of Fenigstein and Vanable’s (1992) Paranoia Scale and Freeman
et al.’s (2005) Paranoia Checklist explicitly ask about malicious intent
and action towards the respondent in particular.
The next interesting question concerns why SDO, also a group-
referential construct, is predicted by Paranoid Belief? One possibility
is that high SDOs are concerned about threats to both individual and
group hierarchy - that a threat to one’s own position is a threat to the
position of one’s group. Several authors have noted that SDO, but not
RWA, is associated strongly with psychopathy - which one can think
of as individual dominance (e.g., Hodson, Hogg, and Maclnnis, 2009;
Wilson, 2005; Wilson and Sibley, 2012). Maybe, as far as SDO goes,
what threatens or benefits me specifically threatens or benefits my group
status in a way that does not apply to RWA.
Concluding remarks
To summarize, the results presented here show that conspiracy belief is
correlated with paranoid ideation (assessed by two different measures)
but, though robust, the relationship is by no means large enough to
suggest that paranoia is the defining correlate of conspiracy belief. At
the same time, both RWA and SDO, themselves important constructs
for understanding numerous social and political attitudes, appear to be
modestly associated with paranoid ideation.
Conspiracy belief was also correlated with Grandiose Belief. This sug¬
gests that the more one endorses conspiracy, the more self-important one
appears to be. This is consistent with the suggestion by Billig (1987) that
proponents of conspiracy theory typically present themselves as “special”
in that they have not succumbed to the official story, and have an impor¬
tant role in exposing conspiracy. In fact, conspiracy belief was at least
weakly correlated with all domains of symptomology assessed by the
BIMP - either believing in conspiracies predisposes one to psychological
ill-being, or, alternatively, psychopathology lays a foundation for con¬
spiracy belief. Disentangling these two possibilities will necessitate cun¬
ning research designs, perhaps assessing psychopathology and conspiracy
belief over time in order to assess causality over time. We believe that, to
date, this is the first examination of a broad range of psychopathological
symptoms in relation to conspiracy theory.
The finding that paranoia is associated with RWA and SDO is prob¬
ably unsurprising given the numerous historical examples of conserva¬
tive/rightist policy and practice focused on identifying threats to soci¬
etal order (for example, the “Reds under the bed” propaganda of the
National Party prime minister Robert Muldoon in 1970s New Zealand,
Paranoia in a dual-process motivational model
287
and justification of voter-identification laws by Republicans in the 2012
US elections). That conspiracy belief appears to be associated with RWA
and SDO (r = .45 and .38 respectively in sample 5) makes sense given
that many conspiracies have strongly political content, and SDO and
RWA are probably a big part of the foundation of political attitudes.
At the same time, it is an open question as to whether or not conspir¬
acy belief might be the exclusive domain of conservative/rightist elites
and voters - pogroms and persecution are very definitely not the sole
preserve of the right. We suspect that the appropriate operationaliza¬
tion of conspiracy belief in research is vital for addressing this question.
For instance, it would be unsurprising to find that in many Western
nations, right-wing sympathizers endorse the belief that there are conspir¬
acies deliberately intended to privilege minorities (such as homosexuals,
indigenous peoples, women, and immigrants) over “legitimate” citizens.
At the same time, liberals/leftists might also believe in a powerful lobby
focused on disadvantaging exactly those same groups. Failure to broadly
define conspiracy might result in research findings allowing characteri¬
zation of conspiracy belief as something related only to the right (or the
left, depending). Indeed, the stereotypical conspiracy theorist might even
endorse both sets of claims.
Following from this point, it is likely that the nature of the political
context may be important for who exactly is seen as a conspiracy theorist.
That is to say, those who run the country determine whose “official story”
is told and, in turn, who is to be distrusted. Once again, only research
over time in the same contexts will help us to understand the particular
dynamics of conspiracy as political fortunes wax and wane.
Just as support for the original dual-process model suggests that con¬
textual factors that lead to increased perceptions of danger or competi¬
tion will have flow-on effects resulting in increased out-group negativity
(see Sibley, Wilson, and Duckitt, 2007), so too do these results suggest
that, at times when the world appears more dangerous or competitive,
we might expect increases in conspiracy belief. This is entirely consistent
with the anecdotal increase in popularity of conspiracy theory after 9/1 1 —
a supremely salient threat to security and social cohesion, and threat to
the status of the West. Indeed, given that events like 9/11 are so salient,
so major, it is unsurprising that they become the subject of conspiracy
theory.
What have we learnt? Unsurprisingly, there is a kernel of truth to the
stereotype of the paranoid conspiracy theorist, though perhaps not as
large a kernel as the stereotype suggests. Additionally, and importantly,
conspiracy belief can be tied into a broader research tradition aimed at
understanding people’s social and political attitudes. That conspiracy
288
Marc Steward Wilson and Chelsea Rose
belief fits into Duckitt’s (2001) dual-process model is potentially useful
for understanding how social and political threats lay the foundation for
shifts in the popularity of conspiracy belief.
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16 Searching for the root of all evil: an
existential-sociological perspective on
political enemyship and scapegoating
Daniel Sullivan, Mark J. Landau, Zachary K.
Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer
Political enemyship is common and diverse, ranging from the scapegoat¬
ing of minority parties by dominant ones to conspiracy theories about the
alleged power of one individual to control wide swaths of society. Many
social scientists have argued that enemy figures and out-groups play an
essential role in the construction and defense of political identities. We
propose that to understand why this is the case, we should first analyze the
diverse psychological functions that enemies serve at the individual level.
To this end, we begin this chapter by summarizing a theory that
explains how perceived relations of enmity in both personal and political
arenas allow individuals to maintain a sense of having personal control
and a valued identity - beliefs that ultimately serve to buffer threatening
thoughts about personal mortality. We then review evidence from the
social-psychological literature supporting this existential theory. In the
second half of the chapter, we turn from the question of the functions
that enemyship serves to the question of when (i.e., under what socio-
historical circumstances) enemyship is most likely to be employed for
those functions. Drawing on insights from sociology, we propose several
hypotheses concerning both quantitative and qualitative variation in ene¬
myship processes. We believe that our integrative existential-sociological
framework has considerable potential to explain why political enemyship
and scapegoating take place, and to predict when these phenomena can
be expected with reasonable certainty.
Enemyship and politics
A number of psychologists (e.g.. Allport, 1954; Cantril, 1941) have
argued that clear enemy groups are necessary to solidify political group
identities (for review, see Holt and Silverstein, 1989). This work is
based on variations of the social identity theory (Tajfel, 2010/1978)
292
Enemyship and scapegoating
293
hypothesis that group members strive for valued group distinctiveness,
and perhaps the best way to do so is by differentiating the group
from devalued out-groups. Thus, defining group characteristics over and
against those of an enemy group is often a crucial process in the consoli¬
dation of political beliefs and identity.
Indeed, in the most radical statement of this position, the political the¬
orist Carl Schmitt (2007/1932) argued that the very essence of politics
as a unique domain of human activity inhered in the friend-enemy rela¬
tionship. For Schmitt, politics could only be distinguished from other
important sociocultural domains - such as aesthetics and religion - by
recognizing the defense of one’s position against that of an enemy as
the starting point for all political thought and action. Schmitt went fur¬
ther to claim that politics (as grounded in the friend-enemy relationship)
uniquely affords individuals the opportunity to satisfy existential motives.
For Schmitt, existential motivation meant being willing to kill or be killed
in service of an idea (see also Marcuse, 2009/1968).
We do not straightforwardly endorse Schmitt’s narrow definitions of
politics or existential motivation. But conceptual issues aside, the histor¬
ical record clearly supports his key notion - namely, that political friend-
enemy relations have immense power to drive individuals to extreme
acts, including murder and martyrdom. This reality raises the question of
how exactly collective political constructions offer individuals an oppor¬
tunity to satisfy their personal existential motivations. Specifically, how
do political processes, largely occurring outside the purview of a given
individual, give rise to such deep-seated personal convictions? Moreover,
under which circumstances will individuals be most likely to satisfy their
existential motives through the friend-enemy relationship?
We propose that underneath these questions lies the issue of why ene¬
myship is so important for the construction of identity and the mainte¬
nance of belief systems. Two characteristics of enemyship in particular
call out for explanation: first, it is irrational- marked by fervor and super¬
stition and capable of fomenting extreme antisocial actions with little
regard for sound judgment; second, it assumes various forms - its object,
scope, and duration differing significantly between groups and sociohis-
torical circumstances. To be sure, a sociological perspective emphasizing
historically situated struggles for resources could explain much of the
second aspect of enemyship, and indeed we will adopt a largely sociolog¬
ical approach later in this chapter. However, we believe that a framework
emphasizing existential motives to establish a valued identity in the face of
mortality is better suited than other perspectives to explain the more irra¬
tional aspect of enemyship. Therefore, to understand this fundamental
issue, we first need to examine the human existential situation, and the
294 Daniel Sullivan, Mark J. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer
existential functions of personal enemyship. Therein, we propose, lie the
psychological roots of political enemyship.
An existential theory of (political) enemyship
An existential theory of enemyship should be rooted in that which is
both the ultimate existential concern and the ultimate threat posed by
an enemy: death (Hoffman, 1983; Tillich, 1952). Within social psychol¬
ogy, the most widely researched theory of the role of death awareness
in human behavior is terror management theory (TMT) (Pyszczyn-
ski, Greenberg, and Solomon, 2003). According to the theory, peo¬
ple’s knowledge of their impending death compels the construction and
defense of cultural ideologies that guarantee immortality (such as political
ideologies), and striving for lasting personal value within these cultural
frameworks.
More than 400 studies carried out in over a dozen countries have
produced findings in accord with hypotheses derived from TMT (for
a review, see Greenberg, Solomon, and Arndt, 2008). Many of these
studies test the mortality salience hypothesis: If cultural worldviews and
self-esteem provide us with a sense of immortality, then making people’s
mortality salient should lead people to bolster and defend their cultural
worldviews (i.e., worldview defense ) and to strive more at tasks that provide
them self-esteem. Studies show, for example, that participants who write
a few sentences about their death (compared to another topic) are more
favorable to people who validate their worldview (e.g., their nationality
and religious beliefs) and are more disparaging of people who criticize
it (Greenberg et al., 2008). Importantly, however, participants in these
studies are not consciously aware that thoughts of death are driving their
defensive behaviors.
Accordingly, over eighty studies have also shown support for the death
thought accessibility hypothesis - namely, that threatening the constructs
people rely on for symbolic immortality will increase the extent to which
cognitions about death are accessible outside immediate consciousness.
In many of these studies, presenting people with information threaten¬
ing aspects of their worldview or self-esteem elevates the accessibility of
death-related thought, but not of other negative cognitions, suggesting
that investment in these constructs serves to ameliorate concerns with
mortality in particular (see Hayes, Schimel, Arndt et al., 2010, for a
review) .
The need to deny death is thus at least partly responsible for people’s
pursuit and creation of symbolic meaning and self-esteem. Without the
constant threat of death - the promised event forming the outer limit of
our identities - humans would not be driven to construct personal and
Enemyship and scapegoating
295
political identities with the same fervor. Yet how do people conceptualize
the threat of death in their everyday lives? Even if belief in the transcen¬
dence of a political or religious group affords people the conviction that
they are persons of worth destined for immortality, they are still forced at
times to contemplate death, as when they are faced by natural disasters
or the loss of loved ones. TMT suggests that focused awareness of the
reality that death is ultimately inevitable and could come at any moment
from a variety of unpredictable environmental sources is psychologically
untenable. In order to avoid preoccupation with such a disturbing con¬
ceptualization of death, people must find some other interpretation of
the dangers lurking in their environment.
The existential anthropologists Ernest Becker (1969) and Mary
Douglas (1966) propose that personal enemyship is one defense on which
people often rely to cope with the awareness of the myriad hazards threat¬
ening them with destruction. Personal enemyship is the perception that
another person or persons are using power and influence to undermine
one’s goals and well-being. By tracing all potential sources of threat back
to a focal enemy who can be monitored, one gains a sense of control and
some mastery over the problem of impending death.
Yet, as Becker (1969) argued, perceived enemies do not only augment
the individual’s sense of personal control in a world of random sources of
potentially lethal hazard. In addition to this control-maintenance func¬
tion, enemies can also be used to absolve the individual of personal guilt,
an oft-cited function of the scapegoat. More generally, enemies are often
used in the construction of a valued personal identity.
Anthropological evidence supports the contention that, in cultures
around the globe, enemies often serve the different proximal functions
identified by Becker. Douglas (1966) argues that members of diverse
cultures around the world associate enemies with enigmatic forces oper¬
ating outside culturally sanctioned patterns for appearance and behavior.
In this way, the presence of enemies reinforces (through contrast) the
individuals’ sense of who they are: a valuable person with an explicit,
sanctioned identity. In addition to this identity-maintenance function,
belief in malevolent people and supernatural agents has been shown to
help satisfy motives to bolster personal control among South Africans
(e.g., Ashforth, 2001) and to reduce guilt among people living in rural
areas of Ghana (Mendonsa, 1982) and Burma (Spiro, 1967).
It is important to note that although Becker asserted that enemies
and scapegoats are used in multiple ways to maintain a sense of one’s
valued identity, he believed (as do we) that the diverse functions served
by enemies ultimately fulfill the more distal goal of obtaining symbolic
immortality (and thereby denying death) . The implication of this analysis
is that death denial is not a simple process; individuals require multiple
296 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer
psychological structures - such as a valued personal identity and a sense
that the world is controllable - to effectively assuage the fear of mor¬
tality. Similarly, although the different functions of enemyship may be
ultimately traced back to death denial, it is useful in empirical studies
to separately examine how enemyship upholds the intermediate struc¬
tures sheltering the individual from this supreme terror (for a related
perspective, see Sullivan, Landau, and Kay, 2012).
All the processes of interpersonal enemyship are exacerbated, through
group psychological phenomena, at the political level. Like personal ene¬
mies, political enemies and scapegoats serve four existential functions
for individuals and groups: direct death denial, as well as the distinct
death-denying functions of identity maintenance, control maintenance,
and guilt denial (Becker, 1975). In previous social-psychological studies,
these four functions have been separately examined. Using our integra¬
tive existential theory, we will weave these previously separate lines of
inquiry together and show how the different functions of enemyship are
interrelated.
Enemyship in service of death denial
Becker posited that enemyship buffers people from thoughts of death
that - because they are repressed - are not typically available to introspec¬
tive awareness. How, then, can we empirically test this analysis? TMT
addresses this question with a dual-process model of defense against the
awareness of mortality. When people are consciously aware of their mor¬
tality, they typically respond with so-called proximal defenses: They deny
their vulnerability to death in an immediate and literal way. However,
when death-related cognitions are resonating at the fringes of conscious¬
ness, people respond with distal defense: They cling to symbolic con¬
structs that have nothing literally to do with physical death but rather
function to uphold a basis for symbolic immortality (see Greenberg,
Landau, and Arndt, 2013). In this way, people rely on symbolically
mediated processes - like enemyship - to deny death indirectly, with¬
out conscious awareness that their defense functions as a form of denial.
In line with this model, numerous studies have shown that when
thoughts of mortality are accessible but outside current focal attention,
people are more likely to engage in political enemyship as a distal defense
against death. For example, some of the earliest studies demonstrating
terror-management processes (Greenberg, Pyszczynski, Solomon et al.,
1990) did so by showing that reminders of death (relative to reminders
of other topics) increased US participants’ subsequent tendency to
engage in worldview defense, which was measured in the form of both
Enemyship and scapegoating
297
participants’ liking for a person who praised the USA and their dislike
for someone who attacked US values. It is important to recognize that
in these studies, revulsion against a hated out-group member was just
as important a response to nonconscious death concerns as attraction
towards a person who affirmed one’s political values. More dramatic
evidence comes from studies (McGregor, Lieberman, Greenberg et al.,
1998) showing that death thoughts (compared to a control condition)
actually increased participants’ physical aggression against a person who
belonged to an opposing political party.
Additional research on political worldview defense induced by mor¬
tality salience has explicated many of the details of this process. For
example, Castano, Yzerbyt, Paladino et al. (2002) found that mortality
reminders increased bias for one’s national in-group relative to another
nation, and that this effect occurred through a corresponding increase
in the perceived entitativity, or cohesiveness, of one’s in-group, as well
as increased identification with the group. In other words, reminders of
one’s personal mortality induce attempts to identify with a group (polit¬
ical or otherwise) seen as transcending the self and being in some sense
an immortal, lasting entity. This bid for immortality through political
identification comes with a price, however - an immediate heightened
revulsion towards political enemies and other groups.
Political enemyship elicited by death-related anxiety can have some
surprisingly counterintuitive and insidious effects. In one study (Hayes,
Schimel, and Williams, 2008), Christian participants who read an article
threatening their religious worldview showed an increase in the accessi¬
bility of death-related thoughts. This follows from the TMT perspective
that our cultural worldviews provide us with an anxiety buffer protect¬
ing against the awareness of death: When our protective cultural beliefs
are attacked, death anxiety creeps back into conscious awareness. Most
interestingly, however, if worldview-threatened participants read an arti¬
cle about several Muslims dying in a plane crash - in other words, if
members of what could be perceived as an enemy group perished - they
did not show an increase in death-related thoughts. In other words, learn¬
ing of the death of one’s enemy alleviates a heightened concern with one’s
own death that is otherwise present under threat. Death denial (perhaps
ironically) motivates individuals not only to seek out enemies but also to
be invested in their destruction.
Enemyship in service of identity maintenance
Our brief review of the role of death concerns in fueling intergroup ene¬
myship points to a key assumption of the social scientific investigation
298 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer
of political enemyship: enemies reinforce (political) identities. As dis¬
cussed, focused mortality salience seems to elevate enemyship via an
increased sense of in-group identification (Castano et al., 2002). Other
work in social psychology has focused more exclusively on the connection
between enemyship and the construction and maintenance of social iden¬
tities (of course, for Becker, the goal of identity maintenance ultimately
served the purpose of death denial).
Research in the social identity theory tradition suggests that mere com¬
parisons between one’s in-group and an out-group will automatically
orient the individual towards enemyship-related cognitions, particularly
to the extent that the individual is invested in the in-group as a positive
source of identity. For example, when people are asked to think about
their (national) in-group relative to various out-groups, positive correla¬
tions emerge between one’s sense of pride in and identification with the
in-group, on the one hand, and derogation of out-groups on the other
hand (Mummendey, Klink, and Brown, 2001). However, these corre¬
lations are weaker if one has not been explicitly primed to engage in
intergroup comparison.
Of course, political leaders have long recognized the power of ori¬
enting their followers towards comparisons with enemy out-groups to
escalate in-group identification and foster political zeal. The tactic of
rallying individuals to support the in-group more fervently by pointing
to the presence of a scapegoat or enemy group has historically been
most successful in situations of widespread social uncertainty (a point
to which we will return in a later section of this chapter). Accordingly,
research shows that the likelihood that people’s strivings for group-based
identity will prompt them to derogate enemies is increased in uncertain
circumstances (e.g., Hogg, 2012). When individuals are feeling uncer¬
tain about their future (and particularly their economic future) they
have a greater preference for membership in radical or authoritarian
groups with rigid identities (Hogg, Meehan, and Farquharson, 2010;
Sales, 1972). Clear political identities can resolve feelings of uncertainty,
while often reinforcing (and being reinforced by) processes of politi¬
cal enemyship and polarization. For example, when US Democrats and
Republicans were induced to feel uncertain about key aspects of their
lives, they evinced a positive correlation between perceptions that their
political party is an entitative group and of the relative polarization of
their party’s attitudes on important issues compared to the other group
(Sherman, Hogg, and Maitner, 2009). In short, uncertainty about one’s
identity prompts construal of one’s political group as having a clear
identity to the extent that it is contrasted with that of an enemy out¬
group.
Enemyship and scapegoating
299
Enemyship in service of control maintenance
Becker (1969, 1975) proposed that because people recognize that the
environments through which they move are filled with random sources of
hazard, they are motivated to see themselves as having powerful enemies
to whom all potential danger may be traced. Relatively speaking, human
enemies are easy to predict, avoid, and even defeat. This analysis suggests
an interesting hypothesis - namely, that it is exactly when people feel like
their sense of personal control is under threat that they should be most
desirous of having powerful enemies.
We (Sullivan, Landau, and Rothschild, 2010) tested this hypothesis
in the political arena just prior to the 2008 US presidential election.
We primed half of our participants with a reminder that they have lit¬
tle control over multiple sources of hazard, ranging from communica¬
ble diseases to accidents during travel. The other participants were not
reminded of such hazards. We then asked participants the extent to which
they endorsed different conspiracy theories claiming that the candidate
opposed to their preferred candidate was orchestrating attempts to steal
the election. In confirmation of our hypothesis, those participants whose
sense of control had been threatened were more likely to believe that their
political enemy (in this case, either President Barack Obama or Senator
John McCain) had enough power and malicious intent to rig the election.
Becker’s analysis suggests that this effect occurred because people rely
on identifiable enemies to maintain control in a chaotic world. If this
is indeed the case, then we would expect that having a clear enemy
would actually increase people’s sense of control under threatening cir¬
cumstances. To test this, we (Rothschild, Landau, Sullivan et al, 2012)
drew on the observation that enemies can be used as scapegoats to explain
particular cases of hazard. Complex and long-term threats like global
climate change that are difficult to comprehend can be perceived as
uncontrollable. However, if such a threat can be blamed on a particular
scapegoat group, this might increase people’s conviction that they under¬
stand the cause of the threat and that it therefore is not beyond their
personal control.
Accordingly, we (Rothschild et al., 2012) exposed some participants
to a portrayal of global climate change as a poorly understood threat,
and others to information suggesting that the causes of this catastrophe
are well understood. Participants were then presented with information
either about a group that could serve as a viable scapegoat for explaining
climate change (oil companies), or about a group that could not rea¬
sonably explain this threat (the Amish). Among those participants who
thought about climate change as an unexplained threat, personal control
300 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer
was increased if they were given oil companies as a scapegoat to explain
the phenomenon. Thus, evidence shows not only that people will artifi¬
cially imbue enemies and scapegoats with power in order to bolster their
sense of control, but also that exposure to these targets does in fact serve
this function.
Enemyship in service of guilt denial
Political enemies do not only help individuals maintain valued identities
by providing them with a sense of personal control. Enemies can also be
used as scapegoats in the more traditional sense of the term, meaning
people can transfer blame for negative events from themselves to their
enemies, absolving themselves of guilt. This tactic is used frequently
by political pundits and party leaders, as when Democrats attempt to
portray Republicans as responsible for the current problems in the US
economy, and vice versa.
In our studies on scapegoating in response to the threat of climate
change (Rothschild et al., 2012), we examined the possibility that this
process can facilitate guilt denial in addition to control maintenance. In
one study, college students were presented with descriptions of climate
change as either a poorly understood, uncontrollable threat, or as the
direct fault of the participants’ group (i.e., young Americans). The lat¬
ter framing posed a threat to the moral value of that group’s identity,
and thereby to the self. Relative to a neutral control condition, partic¬
ipants were more likely to scapegoat oil companies for climate change
in either threat condition; but whereas the effect of a control threat on
scapegoating was mediated by perceived personal control, the effect of a
moral value threat occurred through guilt feelings. Furthermore, mirror¬
ing the results described in the previous section, participants who were
blamed for climate change but then presented with a viable scapegoat
group showed reduced feelings of personal guilt compared to blamed
participants presented with a nonviable target. In addition, exposure to
a scapegoat reduced participants’ willingness to take personal action to
stop climate change after being blamed for this catastrophe.
In sum, empirical studies have shown that political enemyship and
scapegoating processes facilitate death and guilt denial as well as identity
and control maintenance, at both personal and group levels. However,
social psychologists have not paid a great deal of attention to the broader
social and cultural factors that might encourage individuals to rely specif¬
ically on enemyship processes as a means of satisfying these existential
motives. Obviously, people can deny death, establish clear identities,
maintain a sense of personal control, and unburden themselves of guilt
Enemyship and scapegoating
301
through a variety of outlets and mechanisms (despite the fact that, as
many of the cited theorists have argued, enemyship seems to be a promi¬
nent means of fulfilling these functions across different cultural and his¬
torical settings). Why is it that, today especially, political enemyship,
conspiracy theories, and related phenomena seem to be on the rise (as
many of the chapters in this volume attest to)? To answer this question,
we will supplement the existential theory of enemyship with a sociological
perspective.
A sociological perspective on political enemyship
The sociological literature on enemyship and scapegoating has yielded at
least three major insights. These insights help us understand: (1) how the
process of socially constructing political enemies tends to imbue them
with certain characteristics; (2) the social circumstances under which
enemyship processes are most likely to occur in general (a factor we
refer to as “quantitative variation in enemyship”); and (3) the social
circumstances under which certain kinds of enemyship or scapegoating
processes are more likely to occur than others (what we refer to as “quali¬
tative variation in enemyship”). We discuss each of these insights in turn.
Some of our research has provided initial support for the first two points;
however, the model of qualitative variation in enemyship remains largely
untested, and therefore stands out as a potential starting point for future
interdisciplinary research.
The social construction of ambiguously powerful enemies
Political enemies are social constructions or collective representations
(Berger and Luckmann, 1966; Smith, 1996). As Sartre (1948) argued,
enemy groups are often imbued with such fantastic qualities that their
representation ceases to have any real connection to their actual behav¬
ior, as in the case of the view of Jewish people as world-dominating
conspirators held by many anti-Semites. Drawing on these ideas, Smith
(1996) argued that certain forms of enemyship adopt the status of chime-
ria : socially constructed visions of a political figure or group that ascribe
them fantastic powers beyond their actual reach.
Douglas (1966) described this quality of chimeria possessed by ene¬
mies in terms of the process of attributing ambiguous power to the enemy.
In other words, people see their enemies as capable of perpetrating a
wide range of misdeeds, and as operating outside the boundaries of con¬
doned or conventionally understood power. If we draw on our existential
302 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer
theory of political enemyship, it is easy to understand why enemies would
be socially constructed as ambiguously powerful. Such representations
readily allow people to use enemies as scapegoats to satisfy control main¬
tenance and guilt-denial functions, because they are believed capable of
carrying out a variety of misdeeds. In contrast, explicit representations of
an enemy’s capabilities and shortcomings limit the range of hazards and
negative outcomes that can be attributed to them. In addition, as men¬
tioned earlier, this process facilitates identity maintenance: In a concep¬
tion of the world as a struggle between Good and Evil, an ambiguously
powerful enemy serves as a point of contrast to define more explicitly
the in-group’s power as benevolent, morally sanctioned, honorable, and
trustworthy.
In one of our studies (Sullivan et al., 2010), we tested the sociolog¬
ical hypothesis that enemies perceived as ambiguously powerful would
be most effective at performing a control-maintenance function. Partici¬
pants whose sense of control was threatened and who were then exposed
to a portrayal of the terrorist group Al-Qaeda as ambiguously power¬
ful (e.g., enigmatic and poorly understood) actually showed higher per¬
ceptions of personal control than participants exposed to a portrayal of
Al-Qaeda as weak or as having well-understood powers. This finding pro¬
vides critical support for the idea that we construct ambiguous enemies
to satisfy existential motives for control, because it is rather counterin¬
tuitive. Superficially, one would assume that exposure to a weak enemy
would be more likely to boost control than exposure to a powerful one.
However, ambiguous enemies serve as focal objects to which diverse
sources of risk can be attributed. Accordingly, we found that the increase
in perceived personal control occurred through a reduction in the per¬
ception of randomly distributed future risk among those participants who
thought about Al-Qaeda as an ambiguously powerful enemy.
Quantitative variation in enemyship and scapegoating
processes
The thrust of our hypothesis regarding quantitative variation in enemy-
ship lies in a sociological formula provided by Douglas (1966). In ordered
systems - social environments where norms for behavior are clear, individ¬
uals have a basic sense of existential security, and institutions are stable
and trusted - people tend to respond to threats to their basic motives by
bolstering the perceived power of benevolent sources of authority, such
as the government or a supreme deity. Within such ordered systems,
religious beliefs, a sense of civic responsibility, or feelings of patriotism
often serve to meet the various existential needs that, as Becker argued,
Enemyship and scapegoating
303
enemies can also fulfill. In disordered systems - environments where norms
are unclear, people feel existentially insecure, and institutions are unsta¬
ble and distrusted - people tend to respond to threats to their motives
through enemyship processes. In other words, when people cannot turn
to broader social institutions (such as religion or a sense of national¬
ism) to obtain existential equanimity, they will be more likely to rely on
enemies to meet this need.
This analysis has been supported in different historical and sociolog¬
ical analyses. For example, Staub (1989) examined cases of genocide -
such as the Nazi Holocaust and the Turkish genocide of Armenians -
and found that they all occurred under what he referred to as difficult life
conditions , meaning the widespread presence of economic problems and
violence in a society, rapid industrialization and technological advance
in a society, or both. Staub (1989) proposes that difficult life conditions
threaten people’s basic sense of positive identity and perceived control,
and that people often respond to this system disorder through scape¬
goating. In related analyses, sociologists have argued that conditions of
social fragmentation (stemming from globalization processes and finan¬
cial crises) have contributed substantially to the recent rise of radical,
right-wing populist movements in Western Europe and the USA (Anto¬
nio, 2000; Betz, 1994; Smith, 1996). These movements often include as
a primary ideological component the vilification of immigrant out-groups
and other political enemies.
Building on this context-specific sociological research, we (Sullivan
et al., 2010) experimentally tested the notion that people would be more
likely to rely on enemyship for control maintenance under general condi¬
tions of system disorder. Specifically, we manipulated whether American
participants saw the USA as an ordered system in which economic and
law enforcement institutions are reliable, or as a disordered system with a
fragile economy and unstable government. Participants primed with sys¬
tem order and a threat to personal control ascribed more compensatory
power to the US government, but those primed with system disorder
instead responded to a control threat with elevated perceptions of the
power of their personal enemies.
Qualitative variation in enemyship and scapegoating
processes
As has been clear throughout this chapter, enemyship and scapegoat¬
ing are not uniform phenomena: they can arise as a primary function
of different motives, and in a variety of nuanced ways. Furthermore,
these processes can be examined at multiple levels. For example, we can
304 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer
distinguish between the antagonistic relationship of two enemy individ¬
uals and the political enmity of two opposing parties. We have argued
that enemyship of all kinds is more likely to occur in disordered systems.
But we believe it is also possible to predict, as a function of certain social
conditions that might coincide with general system disorder, the forms
of enemyship that will be most afforded under particular sociohistorical
circumstances.
At least the sketch of such a model of qualitative variation in enemy-
ship is provided by Douglas (1994). She identifies three general patterns
that foster differing forms of enemyship. By distinguishing between these
patterns, we acknowledge that a disordered social system can be man¬
ifested in various ways. The first pattern could be described as system
disorder under general conditions of existential insecurity. Here we use the
term “existential insecurity” in a sociological sense (Norris and Ingle-
hart, 2004) to indicate societies where the majority of individuals do
not feel that they are adequately protected against prominent dangers
(e.g., disease or death through warfare). We refer to the second pattern
as system disorder under totalitarianism. The final pattern distinguished by
Douglas is best described as system disorder with resource inequality. We
will briefly describe how system disorder manifests differently in each
of these potential sociohistorical patterns, and present hypotheses about
the type and function of political enemyship that will likely occur under
each.
System disorder under general conditions of existential insecurity
This pattern might be considered the “rawest” form of system disor¬
der. When most individuals in a society feel that their lives are under
daily threat, from either violence or unfavorable environmental circum¬
stances, there are few countervailing social structures to alleviate a sense
of widespread system disorder. This pattern might describe the life con¬
ditions of many early human groups in the environment of evolutionary
adaptedness, but it persists today in regions characterized by civil war or a
history of devastating economic exploitation by colonial powers. Accord¬
ing to Douglas (1994), in such circumstances individuals often dedicate
their allegiance to small groups which provide a minimal amount of exis¬
tential security. This analysis is partly supported by research (Gelfand,
Raver, Nishii et al., 2011) showing that nations characterized by existen¬
tial insecurity tend to have “tight” cultures, wherein individuals sacrifice
individual interests to the benefit of the group. For example, Pakistan is
a country that in its recent history has struggled with population density,
political instability, terrorism, and major damage from natural disasters
Enemyship and scapegoating
305
(such as flooding and earthquakes). It also scores very high on measures
of cultural tightness, such as the perception that strong norms for behav¬
ior in particular situations are shared by all group members (Gelfand
et al., 2011).
The tightly organized groups that fight for survival under these condi¬
tions often view most out-groups as enemies. Of course, under general
conditions of existential insecurity, resources are typically scarce, and
groups are often actively involved in real conflicts over basic means of
survival. Enemyship in these circumstances is most likely to be mani¬
fested as intergroup hostility. In addition to the potential for winning
better access to limited resources, this intergroup enemyship also serves
important symbolic functions. Enemyship in these circumstances pri¬
marily facilitates death denial and identity maintenance. By identifying
a hated out-group as the source of all evil, groups can gain a sense of
symbolic immortality even under material conditions of existential inse¬
curity. And in a disordered system where group boundaries are often in
a potential state of flux (e.g., an infrastructure is lacking for the assign¬
ment of formal citizenship), the construction of an enemy out-group
helps solidify in-group identity and membership.
System disorder under totalitarian conditions
In many historical situations, conditions of economic and political dis¬
order have set the stage for the temporary rise of a totalitarian regime.
Here we use the term “totalitarianism” to refer to the (sometimes forced,
sometimes willing) submission of people’s individual liberties to an auto¬
cratic leader with a heroic vision of the in-group’s identity (Fromm, 1941;
Marcuse, 2009/1968). The widespread uncertainty about the future and
personal value that characterizes system disorder often increases the will¬
ingness of individuals to support a tyrannical but forceful leader and
regime that at least offer some certain vision of what the future will hold
and of who is valuable in society.
In some instances, totalitarianism can rise due to the exclusive use
of brute military force; however, in most instances, certain groups of
people within the social system willingly allow the totalitarian govern¬
ment to come to power. This usually occurs (at least in part) because
the totalitarian leader(s) identifies a scapegoat on which in-group mem¬
bers can blame the current circumstances of system disorder (Douglas,
1994). The regime promises to expunge the scapegoat group, or at least
remove them from power, and through this process to restore order, sym¬
bolic value, and prosperity to the in-group. As individuals generally seek
scapegoats when their feelings of personal control and moral worthiness
306 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer
are under threat, system disorder increases the likelihood that they will
sacrifice liberties in exchange for a scapegoat ideology and the promise
of renewed order.
Thus, in these circumstances, enemyship typically takes the form of the
persecution of a minority scapegoat group. In addition to aiding the total¬
itarian regime’s rise to power, this form of enemyship primarily serves
symbolic functions of death and guilt denial. The compelling leader con¬
structs a simplistic dualist ideology of perpetual warfare between the good
in-group and the evil scapegoat group, which promises in-group mem¬
bers a revolutionary sense of immortality, galvanizing their self-sacrificial
potentialities (Lifton, 1968; Schori, Klar, and Roccas, 2009). At the
same time, blaming system disorder on the scapegoat group absolves
in-group members of the potential self-blame and worthlessness they
might otherwise experience in undesirable economic circumstances. This
guilt-denial function is bound up with the fact that, under totalitarian
conditions, scapegoating is often of an intragroup nature: A minority
subculture that was once part of the in-group is now reconstructed as
aligned with malevolent forces that must be weeded out to preserve the
“true” in-group’s purity (Adorno, 2000/1975). And once the totalitar¬
ian government begins to commit symbolic and physical violence against
scapegoated individuals, further vilification - perhaps to the point of
genocide - of the scapegoat group is necessary to deny a mounting sense
of potential guilt (Becker, 1975).
System disorder with resource inequality
A final sociohistorical manifestation of system disorder is one that is
increasingly common in the modern world - namely, system disorder
with sustained income inequality. This form of system disorder is distin¬
guishable from that of a totalitarian regime because it can emerge within
a politically democratic society. In the modern variants of this form,
unregulated capitalist economic organization allows a radically uneven
distribution of material and authoritative (e.g., educational, informa¬
tional) resources to take place, resulting in large disparities between a
small number of individuals of high socioeconomic status and a majority
of lower-status persons (e.g., Giddens, 1983).
Massive levels of income inequality can generate social-psychological
conditions of anomie (normlessness) and mistrust between individuals
(Oishi, Kesebir, and Diener, 2011). With little regulation on the dis¬
tribution of and processes for acquiring resources, individuals at the
lower end of the economic continuum feel dissatisfied and helpless,
while those at the higher end often become preoccupied with a “dizzying
Enemyship and scapegoating
307
quest” for obtaining a seemingly infinite (but potentially volatile) store of
wealth (Cloward and Ohlin, 1960; Dumenil and Levy, 2011). Further¬
more, the deregulated capitalist mode of socioeconomic organization that
often generates income inequality simultaneously fosters a consumerist
psychology and a plurality of values which leave the individual uncer¬
tain about the proper routes to achieving a valued identity (Simmel,
1978/1900). Under these circumstances, general feelings of uncertainty
and looming control threat combine with high levels of mistrust to ele¬
vate reliance on political enemyship and conspiracy theories for psycho¬
logical equanimity (Douglas, 1994). In short, individuals use enemies
primarily to maintain a sense of personal control, tracing their economic
misfortunes (or potential misfortunes) back to the alleged machinations
of politicians and others whom they see as possessing more power and
resources than they. At the same time, those who have higher socioeco¬
nomic status under conditions of mass income inequality often scapegoat
the working class, attempting to project any guilt they might feel for their
superior fortune by seeing those worse off than them as responsible for
their fate.
To summarize, we predict that when system disorder takes the form
of general existential insecurity, enemyship will be manifested as inter¬
group hostility, facilitating death denial and identity maintenance; when
it takes the form of totalitarianism, enemyship will be manifested as the
scapegoating of a minority group, facilitating death and guilt denial; and
when it takes the form of resource inequality, enemyship will be man¬
ifested in conspiracy theories and other forms of political enemyship,
facilitating control maintenance and guilt denial. Although some histori¬
cal and sociological data support these hypotheses concerning qualitative
variation in enemyship, the model remains at this point mostly specula¬
tive. However, for scholars interested in making predictions about the
types of enemyship and scapegoating processes that are likely to emerge
in future social, economic, and political circumstances, these hypotheses
offer fertile ground for empirical research.
Conclusion
We believe that the existential-sociological framework outlined in this
chapter offers a powerful explanation of enemyship processes. At the
beginning of this chapter, we proposed that a valid account of enemy-
ship should explain both its basic irrationality and its multiplicity of
form and function. Building on classic and contemporary perspectives in
existential psychology, our framework explains enemyship’s irrationality
as stemming from an urgent need to allay the anxiety inherent in our
308 Daniel Sullivan, MarkJ. Landau, Zachary K. Rothschild, and Lucas A. Keefer
existential situation - where every part of us desires to live, yet we know
that that desire will inevitably be thwarted. Hence, we desperately strive
to transcend mortality by constructing a valued identity and defending
that fragile symbolic construction against anything that threatens to inval¬
idate it. Drawing on sociological analyses of the factors behind differences
in political ideology and overarching worldview, our framework explains
multiformity in enemyship as a function of social structural elements
that shape collective beliefs about how much order exists in the social
system, where that order originates, and the availability of opportunities
to establish a valued identity.
Throughout this chapter we have seen how this framework can be used
to integrate theories and laboratory evidence across a range of disciplines
and research programs, as well as to generate novel, testable hypothe¬
ses that warrant further study. Our existential-sociological perspective
does not fully replace realistic conflict theories and other accounts that
might explain enemyship in terms of practical struggles between political
groups. However, it goes further than such perspectives to explain some
rather counterintuitive findings, such as the fact that people will actu¬
ally feel a heightened sense of personal control when they contemplate a
powerful enemy. As a final demonstration of the usefulness of our model,
we will conclude by highlighting a few suggestions it offers for inter¬
ventions that might reduce the prevalence of enemyship over the long
term.
One possibility - against the arguments of theorists like Schmitt who
insist on the necessity of intergroup conflict - is to redirect enemyship
processes such that people focus their malice on common enemies, like
world hunger and disease. But another broad possibility is to promote
societal conditions of anxiety-buffering order - or at least the percep¬
tion of order - by investing faith in benevolent leaders and institutions.
Different ways to achieve this goal are suggested by our model of qual¬
itative variation in enemyship. Simply helping people meet their basic
demands for survival, and thereby increasing their felt existential secu¬
rity, should reduce enemyship. At a more symbolic level, in disordered
circumstances where the rise of totalitarianism seems like a possibility,
people should be offered a positive vision of their group as having a valued
- and humanitarian - identity, to counteract the appeal of a revolutionary
fascist vision rooted in enemyship. Finally, in postindustrial conditions
of widespread income inequality, measures should be taken to restore to
individuals a sense of personal control and agency in their life circum¬
stances, so that the need for enemyship and conspiratorial ideologies is
reduced. Naturally, working to reduce income inequality itself is the most
straightforward means of accomplishing this aim.
Enemyship and scapegoating
309
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Index
2005 London bombing, 226, 261
9/11, 226, 254, 274, 287
abstention, 150
abstract language, 55
abstract thinking, 55
accountability, 45
accuracy, 167
accuracy in (dis)trust, 108
action-reaction
cycles, 209
active, 36
Acton, Lord, 18, 25, 53
adaptive, 101
admiration, 99
adultery, 29
advantaged, 109
affect, 98
affective primacy, 100
affordances
psychological, relational, and material,
106
African-Americans, 223, 229, 243, 274
African opposition leader, 248
aggression against out-groups, 152
agreeableness, 163, 227, 275
A1 Qaeda, 237, 302
alcohol, 23, 29
alien conspiracies, 283
alienation
political, 275
alliances, 38
ambivalent sexism, 93
American National Election Study, 178
AMOS, 283
ancestors, 106
angry minds, 221, 254
anomie, 226, 261, 306
anthropological evidence, 295
anti-immigration rhetoric, 159
antipathy, 204, 210
anti-Semites, 301
antisocial behavior, 54
anxiety, 59, 202
appraisal, 207
approach/inhibition theory of power, 34,
75
Asch, Solomon, 92
aspirations, 1 07, 118
assassination, 274
atheists, 154
atrocities, 131
20th century, 10
attention, 57, 66
attitude polarization, 224
attitudes, 101, 150
anti-immigrant, 154
anti-Semitic, 259
sociopolitical, 153
attribution
non-personalistic, 241
personalistic, 241
attributional analyses, 201
attributional complexity, 123
authoritarian
aggression, 276
submission, 276
authoritarian governments, 131
authoritarian groups, 298
authoritarian leadership, 140
authoritarian personality, 276
authority, 62, 140
autocratic, 131
autonomy, 130, 153
Baker, Howard, 92
bankers, 73
basic needs, 107
Becker, Ernest, 295
behavioral approach system (BAS), 34, 75
behavioral inhibition system, 34, 75
Belgium, 180
belief system, 257
beliefs, 159
benevolence, 24, 109
312
Index
313
Berlusconi, Silvio, 9, 150
moral scandals and trials, 169
popularity, 171
success, 169
supporters, 158
voters, 154
between-country variation, 188
between-group phenomenon, 242
bias
group-enhancing, 204
self-serving, 204
sinister attribution, 208
biased punctuation, 208
Big Five, 133, 227, 277
big picture, 56
bike-theft, 23
bin Laden, Osama, 212, 258
birth control, 243
Bloomberg, Michael, 26
Bolsheviks, 218
Brazil, 42
British Inventory of Mental Pathology, 280
Burke, Edmund, 177
Bush, George H. W., 92
Bush, George W., 279
business, 26
business simulation, 82
capitalist economic organization, 306
Carter, Jimmy, 92
Cassandras, 212
catastrophe, 300
Catholic Church, 154
Catholics, 191
causal attributions, 123
causal connections, 209
causal relation, 74, 260
caution, 193
CEOs, 2, 27, 56, 213
chaos, 67
chaotic world, 299
chimeria, 301
China, 114
churches, 177
Churchill, Winston, 212
citizens, 1, 130
nonelite, 110
civil liberties, 112
climate change, 10, 239, 256, 299
closed-minded, 260
cluster, 98
coalition, 151
right-wing, 154
coercion, 140
cognitive bias, 224
cognitive infiltration, 231
cognitive mechanism, 66
cognitive misers, 55
cognitive processes, 200
cognitively available, 224
cohesion, 285
Cold War, 177
collective action, 250
collective goals, 132, 163
collective interest, 7
collective victimization, 244
collectivism, 42
horizontal, 81
colonial powers, 304
colonialism, 108, 113
communication strategy, 171
communism, 11, 17, 158
communist threat, 170
companies, 59
comparable data, 185
compassion, 54
competence, 8, 54, 92
competition, 102, 200
conceal, 256
confederate, 36, 40
confidence, 28, 55
confidence game, 102
confidence gap, 9, 177
confirmation bias, 58
conflict, 122, 137, 142, 199
approach-avoidance, 204
history of, 209
intergroup, 240, 308
conformist, 44
conformity, 117, 139, 153
conformity biases, 225
Congress, 183
Connally, John, 92
connectedness, 240, 245
conscientiousness, 163
conscious awareness, 45
conservative agenda, 153
conservative orientation, 160
consistency, 123
conspiracism, 255, 267
conspiracist ideation, 222, 224
conspiracy
exaggerated perception of, 209
German, 199
organizational, 282
conspiracy beliefs, 10, 237, 246, 255, 273
conspiracy theories, 218, 230, 237, 243,
255, 257, 275, 292
adherents versus skeptics of, 268
nature of, 266
314
Index
conspiracy theorist, 255
conspiracy theory questionnaire, 278
conspiratorial networks, 224
conspiratorial politics, 219
consumers, 108
contemporary societies, 106
contraceptives, 244
control
absolute, 131
asymmetry in, 78
lack of, 75, 205, 260
maintenance, 300
over citizens, 141
over resources, 78, 102
personal, 67, 299
sense of, 295
social, 161
threats to, 238
conventionalism, 152, 276
convictions, 255, 293
cooperative arrangements, 109
coping behavior, 207
correspondence
traits and behavior, 56
correspondence bias, 138
corruption, 5, 21, 29, 53, 57, 1 14, 192
Corruption Perception Index, 94
cosmopolitan communications, 112
cover-up, 259
creativity, 140
credulity, 64
credulous, 218
towards power, 53
criminal, 2
criminality, 158
crippled epistemology, 223, 231, 261
crisis, 130
culture, 80, 94
collectivism versus individualism, 42
tightness versus looseness, 42
cynicism, 193, 275
danger
perceptions of, 287
dangerous and competitive worldview, 282
death, 12, 294, 296
anxiety, 279, 297
awareness, 294
denial, 296
reminders of, 296
death penalty, 243
deception, 247
decision-making
corporate, 250
political, 250
defense
distal, 296
proximal, 296
delusional, 222, 240, 254
delusions
persecutory, 278
democracy, 109, 121, 180
Athenian, 17
satisfaction with working of, 180
democratic, 255
democratic malaise, 177
democratic principles, 227, 238
democratic system, 180
democratization values, 116
democrats, 244, 298
demographic correlates
of political trust, 188
Denmark, 180
dependence, 109
asymmetrical, 102
high, 204
depersonalization, 135
deprivation
group, 243
personal, 243
derogation of outgroups, 298
destruction, 295
developing countries, 112
dialogical belief systems, 256
dictator, 38
dictatorship, 185
diffusion of responsibility, 60
diplomacy, 130
disadvantage
conditions of, 116
relative, 249
disadvantaged, 109, 227
disadvantaged groups, 8, 106
disadvantaged position, 47
disconfirmation, 259
discrimination, 244
disease, 304
disempowerment, 107
disengagement of citizens, 178
dishonesty, 21
disinhibition, 5, 28
distinctive stimuli, 57
distinctiveness, 43, 139
distress, 278
distribution, 20
distrust, 2, 96, 109, 193, 199, 201
irrational, 202
politician-versus-citizen, 9 1
dominance, 117
Douglas, Mary, 295
Index
315
dual-process motivational model, 278
dyadic social structure, 3
dynamic social structures, 250
dysfunctional interpersonal behavior, 210
dysphoric cognitions, 203
dysphoric rumination, 207
Earhart, Amelia, 266
East Asian cultures, 80
economic instability, 136
economic problems, 92
Economist , The , 151
economy, 300
Edelman Trust Barometer, 2
education, 26, 84
primary and secondary, 112
efficacy, 171
egalitarianism, 114, 117
elections, 91, 168
elective affinity, 151, 172
electoral consensus, 151
electoral system, 184
emancipative values, 114, 116
emotions, 98, 100
empathy, 76
employees, 1
empowerment, 107, 116, 228
objective, 107
enemy, 222, 292
enemyship, 12, 292
personal, 294
political, 294, 301
enmity
history of, 212
Enron, 5
entitativity, 139
entrepreneurship, 156
envy, 99
epistemology
closed, 256
equal-power relationships, 1 03
equanimity, 307
essentialism, 139
ethical decision-making, 5
ethical responsibility, 79
ethics, 59
ethnocentric, 154
EU Commission, 180
EU member states, 180
Eurobarometer, 180
Europe
Central and Eastern, 1 82
European Parliament
elections for, 178
European Social Survey, 186, 187
European Values Study, 178
evil, 134, 159, 240
Evil Incarnate, 220, 230
evolution, 239
exclusion, 245
existential, 12, 120
existential insecurity, 304
existential motivation, 293
existential psychology, 307
existential security, 308
existential theory, 292, 296
of political enemyship, 302
expectations, 58
pessimistic, 201
experimental game, 1 9
expertise, 45
exploitation, 108, 164
extraterrestrial life, 239
extraversion, 163
extremists, 231
fake, 91
fascism, 17, 170
Fayed, Mohamed A1-, 258
fear, 170
feedback loop, 1 22
financial crisis, 219, 229
fluctuation, 188
food shortages, 136
Forbes , 26
Ford, Gerald, 92
Fortuyn, Pirn, 181
France, 180
fraud, 5, 91
free market ideology, 156
freedom, 114
freedom of choice, 112
French-Swiss sample, 94
friend-enemy relations, 293
fundamental attribution error, 1 1, 224
games
dictator and ultimatum, 119
Gandhi, Mahatma, 6
Gates, Bill, 6, 26
gay marriage, 277
gender equity norms, 112
gender gaps, 112
generalization, 66
Generalized Sense of Power Scale, 36
genocide, 306
German-Swiss sample, 94
Germany, 180
global economy, 136
global hierarchy. 111
316
Index
goal achievement, 74
goal pursuit, 34
goals, 76, 102
good, 134
Good and Evil
struggle between, 302
good-natured, 92
governance, 10, 117, 227
government, 106, 110, 144
responsibilities, 176
grandiose belief, 282
greed, 23
group behavior, 135
group decision-making, 133
group distinctiveness, 293
group dynamic approach
to power, 74
group entitativity, 135
group identity, 132
group marginalization, 244
group members
majority versus minority, 58
group membership, 135
group polarization, 1 1, 225
group prototypes, 135
group prototypicality, 137
group status, 82
group-dynamic processes, 238
guilt, 300
happy mood, 22
harmony, 43
hazards, 295
health, 10, 254
mental, 263
hedonic states, 205
hedonism, 160
heuristic, 62, 261
HEXACO model of personality, 1 64
hierarchical relationships, 60, 201
hierarchical trust dilemmas, 1 1, 200,
203
hierarchy
threats to, 276
hierarchy reinforcement, 44
high status groups, 82
history
paranoid interpretation of, 221
Hitler, Adolf, 6, 131,212
HIV, 229, 274, 279
Hofstadter, Richard, 219, 222
Hollander, Edwin, 133
Holocaust, 10, 303
homogeneity, 139
homosexuals, 154
honest, 92
honesty-humility, 164
hostile attribution, 210
hostility, 238, 244
intergroup, 307
human civilization, 143
hunger, 308
hypervigilance, 207
hypocrisy, 5, 23, 24, 54, 123
identification, 139, 298
identity, 297
maintenance function, 295
national, 130
personal, 163
ideological and sociological differences,
178
ideological dissonance, 46
ideological system, 259
ideology, 139, 152, 153, 244
idiographic explanatory style,
256
idiosyncrasy credits, 133, 138
idiosyncratic traits, 135
ignorance of facts, 268
illegitimacy, 25
Illuminati, 279
illusory correlation, 58
immigrants, 154
immoral, 2
immoral behavior, 2 1
immortality, 294
symbolic, 294
imperialism, 113
impression formation, 92
imprisonment, 141
impulses, 23
incompetent, 29
independence, 77
India, 94
indifference, 179
individual differences, 226
individual motivation, 7 5
individual self, 248
individualism, 42
vertical, 81
individualization, 178
individuation, 55
industrialization, 303
inequality, 113, 137
group, 152
opposition to, 153
inference, 56
infidelity, 27
influence, 110, 132
Index
317
information processing, 75
ruminative style, 207
inhibitions, 23
injustice, 247
innovation, 140
innovative change, 47
institutional constraints, 110
institutional structures, 118
institutions, 59, 106, 118, 245
democratic, 179
political, 120, 176
intelligence
crystallized, 227
interactionist approach, 133
interdependence, 200
intergroup, 113
context, 238
intergroup anxiety, 239
intergroup threat, 238, 239
internet, 5
intervention, 122
intolerance, 139
intrusive thoughts, 283
intuitive social scientists, 202
Iran-Contra affair, 4
Iraq war, 279
Ireland, 180
irrational, 228, 293
Italian, 158
economy, 159
right versus left, 167
voters, 170
Italy, 94
Japan, 42
Japanese-Americans
at the beginning of World War II,
211
jealousy, 99
Jews, 218, 239
JFK film, 225
July 7, 2005
terrorist attacks, 226, 261
jurisdiction, 204
just world theory, 59, 247, 263
justice, 115, 263
Kennedy, Edward, 92
Kennedy, John E, 218, 226, 237
kill or be killed, 293
Kim Il-sung, 131
Kimjong-il, 131
Kim Jong-un, 26
Kipnis, David, 5
Kissinger, Henry, 273
Kundera, Milan, 140
laissez-faire, 154
LaPiere, Richard, 60
layperson, 26
leaders
corporate, 1, 238
military, 53
narcissistic, 55
national, 130
political, 1, 53, 91, 238
prototypical, 9
religious, 53
social versus task-oriented, 92
leadership, 132
charismatic, 134
directive, 130
efficacy, 132
political, 130
research, 134
styles, 133
transformational, 133
leadership categorization theory, 1 34
left-wing, 153
legitimacy, 10, 60, 64, 65, 115, 192
crisis, 177
legitimizing myths, 115
liberal orientation, 160
liberalization, 117
liberals, 287
Lincoln, Abraham, 68
local representatives, 1 02
Loch Ness Monster, 9, 177
low status
groups, 82
Luxembourg, 180
luxury, 23
Machiavellianism, 167, 255, 262
Madoff, Bernard, 6, 18
Mafia, 169
magical thinking, 278
mainstream explanations, 223
majority group
dominant, 243
malevolent, 221, 237, 256
malevolent intent, 199
malevolent power asymmetries, 109
malicious intent, 286
managers, 22, 27, 78, 110
Mandela, Nelson, 6
Marcos, Ferdinand, 131
martyrdom, 293
materialism, 23
McCain, John, 299
318
Index
McCarthy, Joseph, 130, 273
meaning, 228
symbolic, 294
media, 73, 151, 261
Meir, Golda, 273
memes, 260
mentally ill, 222
meta-analysis, 17
Mexico, 94
mind-set, disinhibited, 28
minority groups, 243, 245, 275
minority parties, 292
misconnect the dots, 211
misperception, 209
mistrust, 33, 193
mistrustful expectations, 242
misunderstanding, 200
modern racism, 277
money, 23, 46
monitoring, 123
monological belief system, 226, 237,
256, 266
Monti cabinet, 184
moon landing
fake, 10
moral, 65
moral character, 61, 62
moral credentials, 60
moral identity, 56
moral judgments, 62
morality, 59, 109
model of, 93
mortality, 292
mortality salience hypothesis, 294
motivated social cognition, 152
motivational theory of basic human
values, 159
Muldoon, Robert, 286
multiculturalism, 154
Muslims, 219, 239
British, 232
fanatical, 138
Mussolini, Benito, 131, 170
mutawwa , 110
myth of self-interest, 242
narcissism, 222
NASA
moon landing, 239
national in-group, 297
nationalism, 154
nationality, 294
natural disaster, 136, 304
Nazi Germany, 131
need for closure, 170
need for structure, 42, 192
needs, 110
negativity bias, 57
negotiation game, 1 9
negotiations, 19
neoliberal governments, 1 20
Netherlands, 180
neuroticism, 163
New York City residents, 237
New Zealand, 280
Nixon, Richard, 5, 18, 244
noblesse oblige, 20
nomothetic, 256
explanatory style, 257
nondemocratic, 17
non-profit companies, 26
norm violations, 33
inconsequential, 40
prosocial, 40
prosocial versus selfish, 38
norms, 33
North Korea, 144
Obama, Barack, 26, 299
Obama-McCain election campaign, 100
occupational specialization, 112
official explanations, 256
official story, 287
oil companies, 239, 256, 299
omnipotent, 220
omnipresent, 220
openness to change, 153
versus conservatism, 160
openness to experience, 227
opportunity, 73, 77
oppression, 116, 122, 245
oppressive circumstances, 115
optimal distinctiveness theory, 239
organizational citizenship, 101
organizations, 199
orientation
exchange versus communal, 79
orthodox groups, 141
Oswald, Lee Harvey, 218, 226
outcome control, 5
out-group derogation, 200
out-group paranoia, 20 1
overconfidence, 5
overly personalistic construal, 208
over-perception, 209
pacifism, 154
Pakistan, 42, 258
paparazzi, 258
paradise, 140
Index
319
paradox, 37
paranoia, 9, 77, 83, 222, 249, 273
clinical forms of, 4
collective, 240
exaggerated, 212
interpersonal, 240
interpersonal forms of, 238
mental illness, 240
out-group, 200
situationally induced, 208
Paranoia Checklist, 278
paranoid cognition, 4, 202
intergroup, 203
paranoid ideation, 228
Paranoid Ideation Scale, 278
paranoid style, 219, 221
paranormal beliefs, 228, 238, 274
parliament, 156
trust in, 192
participation, 101
participatory politics, 117
particle-wave duality, 267
party
membership rates, 177
passive, 36
pathology, 222
Patriot Act, 130
patronize, 35
patterns, 261
Pearl Harbor, 211, 218, 274
perfection, 167
perpetrator, 248
persecution, 122, 224
persecutory beliefs, 285
persecutory delusions, 202
personal space, 35
personality, 11, 150, 163, 226, 255, 261
personalization of politics, 150
person-positivity bias, 185
perspective taking, 5, 245, 248
persuasion, 142
pessimistic thinking, 207
pharmaceutical industry, 239
Plato, 17
plot, 220
governmental, 243
Pol Pot, 132
policymakers, 1, 176
political actors, 1 80
political alienation, 179
political apathy, 179
political arena, 185
political attitudes, 152, 276
political behavior, 98
political campaigns, 150
political candidate, 47
political choices, 150
political cultures, 114
political cynicism, 150, 226, 254
political economy, 110
political efficacy, 179
political engagement, 101
political environment, 107
political expertise, 101
political extremists, 158
political group identities, 292
political identification, 297
political instability, 304
political mobilization, 229
political orientation, 167
political parties, 176
membership of, 177
trust in, 185, 186
political person perception, 92
political support, 179, 184
political system, 116
political trust, 1 02
politicians, 7, 61, 94
trust in, 176, 186
politics, 7
American, 221, 276
Italian, 151
Ponzi scheme, 6
populist communication, 153
populist narrative, 228
Portugal, 94
positive-negative asymmetry, 57
poverty rates, 112
power, 5, 17, 34, 91, 106, 140, 299
absolute, 28
actual differences in, 26
affordance, 33, 38
ambiguous, 301
asymmetry, 108
attraction of, 77, 79
authoritarian, 134
balance of, 130
coercive, 19
construal of, 75, 79
corrupts versus purifies, 64
definition of, 73
different forms of, 78
disinhibiting effect of, 24
equal, 200
exorcism of, 140
feelings of, 19, 21
forms of, 78
hierarchy. 111
hungry, 92
military, 144
320
Index
power ( cont .)
misuse of, 81
perceptions, 38
positions of, 1 9
research, 80
power basis theory, 1 07
power corrupts, 5, 21, 53, 60, 73
power priming, 80
powerless, 245
powerlessness, 224, 254
prejudice, 152, 153, 159, 244, 276
dual-process motivational model of, 276
preoccupation, 295
presidential candidate, 9 1
presidential election
2008 US, 299
pride, 99, 298
prime, 22
prime minister, 26
priming procedure, 79
Princess Diana, 226, 237, 254, 258
privilege, 24
Prodi, Romano, 158, 171
profile, 150
projection, 261
promotion focus, 80
propaganda, 115, 144
prosocial behavior, 39, 46
protest behaviour, 179
Protestants, 191
prototypicality, 142
pseudo-history, 218
pseudoscience, 218
psychological profile, 152
psychopathology, 277, 286
public choice theory, 110
public confidence, 176
public discussion, 73
purity, 306
qualitative variation, 1 2
radical, 141
radicalization, 179
Rainbow Warrior , 280
random events, 263
rational, 202
Reagan, Ronald, 92, 101, 162
realistic conflict, 200, 246
recall, 22
reciprocal influence model of power, 38
reciprocity, 118
Red Bull, 266
re-election, 8
referenda, 116
regimes, 120
regulatory focus, 79
rejection, 244
feelings of, 245
relational accountability, 91, 102
relative deprivation, 113
relativism, 153
religion, 303
religious beliefs, 294
religiousness, 153
representation, 177, 181, 302
Republicans, 244, 287, 298
resistance, 107
resource inequality, 306
resources
relational and material, 106
responsibility, 73, 77, 114
responsible, 82
responsible action, 74
right-wing authoritarianism, 152, 273, 275
right-wing electorate, 151
right-wing populist movements, 303
rigid hierarchy, 9, 137
risk assessment, 34
Robin Hood, 39
role differentiation, 141
rosy halo, 58, 61
royal family, 258
rule-breaking, 33
rules, 41
rumination, 207
Salem witches, 218
sanctions, 43
Santa Claus, 220
Saudi Arabia, 110
scale, 266
paranoia, 241, 281
power affordance, 40
scapegoating, 116, 300
schizotypy, 228, 278
Schmitt, Carl, 293
secret, 220, 254
secret world government, 244
security, 110, 161
threats to, 276
self- anchoring, 54
self-categorization, 137
self-categorization theory, 135, 239
self-centeredness, 76
self-concept, 43
self-consciousness
public, 241
self-control, 29
self-determination, 47
Index
321
self-doubt, 123
self-enhancement, 136
self-esteem, 224, 226, 294
selfish behavior, 39, 73
selfishness, 23, 76, 242
self-protective behaviors, 210
self-referential, 241
self-regulatory focus, 7 5
self-serving behavior, 73
self-transcendence
versus self-enhancement, 160
self-uncertainty
reduction of, 136
semantic meaning, 256
sense-making desires, 238
sense-making processes, 238, 247
sense-making strategies, 247
September 11, 2001, 226, 254, 274, 287
sex, 23
sex scandals, 18
sexually transmitted diseases, 244
Sherif, Muzafer, 200
Sinai talks, 273
sinister attribution bias, 209, 241
sinister motives, 254
situated focus theory of power, 7 5
slaveholders, 218
social animals, 108
social arrangements, 59
social categorization, 200
social change, 134
social cognition, 134
social comparison processes, 106
social construction, 301
social dilemma, 34
social distance theory of power, 55
social dominance orientation, 81, 152,
244, 273, 275
social hierarchies, 44
social identity, 1 34
social identity theory, 239, 298
social identity theory of leadership, 135,
137
social judgments, 67
social motivation, 74
social order, 42, 45
social power, 78
social self, 248
social stability, 158
social value orientation, 77, 192
social values, 139
social withdrawal, 210
social worldviews, 165
socialization, 153
sociocognitive approach
to power, 74
socioeconomic status, 46
South Korea, 108
Soviet Union, 131
spurious correlation, 260
stakeholders, 1, 58
Stalin, Josef, 6, 1 3 1
states, 118
free-market versus social-democratic,
118
status, 23, 24, 29, 67, 93, 138, 200
differentiation, 142
group, 82
status quo, 45, 46, 212
status symbol, 25
stereotype, 54
stereotype content model, 93
stereotype-consistent information, 208
stereotypes, 8
stereotyping, 5
Stone, Oliver, 225
structural equation modeling, 283
subjective well-being, 112
submission to authority, 152
subordinates, 38, 54
sucker’s payoff, 205
suffering, 35
superhuman, 220
superstition, 293
survival needs, 107
suspicion, 53, 151, 193, 199, 279
mutual, 200
suspicious, 4, 38
Switzerland, 94
symmetric intergroup relations, 203
system blame, 243
system dependence, 59
system justification theory, 45, 59
systems
ordered versus disordered, 302
temptations, 23
terror management theory, 12, 294
terrorism, 219
terrorist attack, 222, 229
Thatcher, Margaret, 162
Third Reich, 276
threat, 59, 277
detection, 212
existential, 199
external, 224
manipulation, 248
social, 199
ultimate, 294
uncontrollable, 300
322
Index
ticket-splitting, 177
token groups, 204
top-management, 27
totalitarian regime, 38, 264, 305
tough-mindedness, 153
trade, 130
trade unions, 177
traditions, 152
tragedy, 222
trait adjectives, 92
transcendence, 295
transparency, 62, 121
trend, 188
trust, 17, 91, 106, 182, 201, 277
decline in, 176
institutional, 117
interpersonal, 192
mistrust versus distrust, 193
political, 192
trust dilemmas, 200
trustworthiness, 62, 202
trustworthy, 92
Turkish genocide of Armenians, 303
turnout, 177
Tuskegee syphilis study, 229, 257
Twin Towers, 262
tyranny, 141
Ukraine, 42
uncertainty, 109, 130, 136, 153, 170, 238,
242
societal, 143
uncertainty-identity theory, 136,
139
unemployed, 193
unethical decision-making, 5
uninhibited action, 77
United Kingdom, 180
urban legends, 225
US government, 237
US presidential elections, 100
us versus them
reasoning, 238
utilitarian, 45
values, 43, 150, 159, 222
religious, 162
victim blaming, 247
video, 36
vigilance, 193
vignette, 241
vilification, 306
violence, 143
voice, 110
volatility, 177
volitional capacity, 36
voter aid applications, 178
voter loyalty
decline of, 178
voters, 91
voting behavior, 152
vulnerability, 67, 108, 204, 205, 244
Wall Street, 6
war, 130, 219
warmth, 8, 92
Warren, Earl, 211
Warren Commission Report,
218
Watergate, 4, 5, 18, 228, 244, 254
wealth, 26, 108
Weber, Max, 24
websites
devoted to conspiracies, 259
welfare state, 156
well-being, 101, 200, 243
Western cultures, 80
Western Europe, 177
White Americans, 243
winner-loser gap, 182
within-country variation, 188
within-group phenomenon,
242
World War II, 130
worldview, 275
dangerous/competitive, 279
motivated maintenance of,
266
worldview defense, 294
zeal
political, 298
Zogby International poll, 237
Zuckerberg, Mark, 26
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